


From Russia, with Love

by foreverlonely_neveralone (fatsypatsy)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatsypatsy/pseuds/foreverlonely_neveralone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was happy. Well happy is a strong word, more like content, with his life. He lives in a small town just south of Austin Texas, he works at the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport as a mechanic along side his best friend from high school Benny Lafitte. On the weekends he gets together with all his friends and pseudo family, and when his big shot lawyer of a brother has time, he stops by too. So what more did he need? Castiel was happy. Well happy may have been an over-sale, content maybe? He lives in Irkutsk, Russia with his boyfriend Balthazar, where he works in the music department at the local university and gives private cello lessons to kids. He doesn't have any family left really and the family Balthazar has wont speak to them. Being gay in Russia is more than frowned upon, it can have deadly consequences. So when Castiel's world is shattered, he heads to America. Who knew he would be saved from his contentment and find true happiness with one left turn. Or is Dean the one that is saved by a quick decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at fanfic, so be gentle. It is completely unbeta-ed, so any constructive criticism is more than welcomed. Not sure how often I will be able to update so please be patient. Many more tags will be added as the story progresses, and when any of the rape/non-con takes place I will give an extra warning at the beginning of that chapter.

Chapter 1

 

Dean had always loved the spring, especially in his home town of Bastrop, TX. Not that it ever really got cold in south central Texas, but spring just seems to bring with it a sense of hope and renewal. And warmer temps always meant lower neck lines and shorter hems on all the beautiful young women, and Dean definitely liked that. Bastrop wasn’t exactly his _home town_ , he had been born in Lawrence KS and lived there up until just before his 6th birthday. But Bastrop was the longest he had ever stayed in one place growing up, and now that he was adult with a career and a house to call his own, he definitely thought of this little town as his home.

Living in a small town, Bastrop had a population of about 8000 people, had its advantages. The crime rate was low so people rarely locked their doors at night, the traffic was nonexistent after 9 pm, and everyone knew you by name. The biggest disadvantage, as Dean was realizing yet again, that with everyone knowing your name they also knew your business. This was very apparent with the looks of sympathy all the little old ladies were giving him, followed up with the looks of predatory want he was getting from all the unattached ladies under the age of 40, as he made his way from the parking lot into the local grocery/liquor/drug store.

Luckily, his best friend Benny, who was also his boss, was tagging along for the trip. Benny and he had been friends back in high school. Benny had moved to Bastrop from somewhere deep in the bayous of Louisiana at the beginning of his sophomore year, which was junior year for Dean. Dean had just made starting varsity quarter back and voted captain of the football team at the start of the season. So when Benny walked into Dean’s second period pre-algebra class two weeks into the new school year, and nearly took up the entire doorway, he knew he had found his ace in-the-hole offensive lineman. He and Benny had become fast friends. Benny’s no nonsense way of saying exactly what he was thinking coupled with his deadpan humor, loyalty, and seemingly endless acceptance for anyone who was different or “not a jock” drew Dean to him like a moth to a flame. Because Dean secretly hated the “jock persona” he was expected to portray, and Benny didn’t seem to like it much either. Benny was also an outsider, the new kid. And even though Dean had been living there for the last four years, playing football for the last three and was the best hope for a state championship Bastrop High had had in 15 years, he was still considered an outsider. Because in a town that size, if you weren’t born and raised there, you weren’t really from there.

Today though, was one of those days when Dean really wished he was an outsider. That no one knew him by name, or that he and Lisa had just ended their 3 year long relationship without every even living together much less ever engaged. Lisa was everything Dean ever thought he wanted until he had her. Then she just wasn’t exactly _it._ Sure he had loved her, still did, and truly loved her son Ben who she had with a previous boyfriend. Ben was now 10 years old and practically worshiped the ground Dean walked on, and he felt the same about the kid, which was why this break up was all that much harder. So the last thing he needed was the looks and whispers as he passed by the locals in the store, this was between him and Lisa and, unfortunately Ben, and everyone else could just go to hell. But in a town this size, you can’t say what you really think. Or how you really feel. Or even dare to be who you really are. Because in a town like this, even an “outsider” that has lived here for the last 15 years, can still be run out of town on a rail, so to speak, if they don’t play nice and follow the rules, even the unspoken one.

“Okay Dean, Meg sent us after chips, buns and beer. I think if we split up we can get outta here a helluva a lot faster. Just remember, no eye contact” Benny says. Giving Dean that classic ‘wink and smile’ combo that made everybody love Benny that much more.

“Yeah, I know. It’s like they can smell the fear, man. And eye contact is like a written invitation to say whatever they want.” Dean hisses out as he keeps his head down and steps thru the double doors of the grocery store. Just then, he makes a grave error. He looked up to make sure he wasn’t going to walk into the doors as they slowly slid open and looked right at Miss Williams. And damned if he didn’t smile and nod at her out of habit.

“Oh Dean. How are you doing sweetie? I heard about you and Lisa” she whispers her name like that will make it seem less intrusive. And follows with the ever classic, “Bless your heart” and a few pats on his arm.

“I’m fine Miss Williams, really.” He goes on to offer up the standardized break up answer. “It’s just one of those things you know. Just wasn’t meant to be I guess” then shrugs his shoulders for added effect.

“Well, I’m sure you will find some cute little lady one day. Everyone just worries about you being in that house all alone. A handsome young man like yourself needs a pretty little wife to take care of him”. She replies with a slight accusatory air to her words. Or maybe that’s just how Dean hears what she says.

“Yes ma’am. I appreciate all the concern. I’m sure I will find someone to put up with me someday” And thank god, Benny is right there by his side and clears his throat to say, “ Well Dean, if we don’t get back with what Meg sent us after, then you won’t be the only one looking at living in a house all alone”. He slaps Dean on the back and practically ushers him into the store and away from one of the many town gossips.

They both throw up a hand and wave over their shoulders as they add, in unison, a cursory “Have a good day Miss Williams.” Benny turns to Dean and looks him square in the eye. “You head that way, grab the beer and ice. I’m headed that way” with a thumb thrown over his shoulder to point out the general direction, “and I’ll grab the chips and buns. Meet back here at the front in five. Break.” Benny grabs a cart and pushes off like a man on a mission. Dean grabs his own cart and heads straight to the back of the store in pursuit of cold refreshing beer. A lot of beer. Because he was sure he was going to need several to get through this day.

As he rounds the corner and makes his way down the aisle, he can already see Benny in line at one of the registers. Dean looks down at his cart, full with several cases of beer and even a bottle or two of Wild Turkey, and grimaces. _Good thing Miss Williams didn’t see all this in my cart or she sure as shit would’ve thought I was taking all this way too hard._ Dean had always enjoyed a few beers after work, and even a few more on the weekends with friends, but tried his best not to overdo it. But he’d be the first to admit that when things went south, he tended to drink a little more and a little harder. He only knew two ways of coping with his problems. Drinking and denial.

Dean had had his fair share of problems and hard times, probably more than most. But he knew it could always be worse. He had a few good close friends that he considered family, a good job, a home to call his own and a not-so-little little brother that was a big time lawyer up in Austin. He even had a beautiful and completely awesome sister in law that loved Sam probably as much if not more than he did, and that alone, knowing Sammy was being taken care of and loved was a burden eased from Dean’s mind, one that he had carried all by himself for so long.

As he glanced around the store, careful not to make eye contact with anyone, he landed on a young woman and her sons. The mother had to be in her mid-twenties, long golden hair, a soft smile and an air about her that made you just know she was happy. Her oldest son, if he had to guess was about five. He was pushing the stroller full of his baby brother. Every now and then the older boy would step around to make a face at the baby so he would laugh or brush his cheek as he popped his binkie back in his mouth before he could cry.

As he watched these two brothers interact. One the protector and caregiver, the other with a look of awe and love in his eyes as his older brother catered to his every whim, he was reminded of a time in his life when he was just as happy and carefree.

_He was four and a half years old. At such a young age, the ‘half’ made a huge difference and he remembered how grown up he felt once he got to add that to the answer he would give when asked how old he was. There was only bits and pieces Dean remembered from this time in his life, good bits anyways, but he cherished those few memories of his childhood like they held the answer to world peace. And they did, to his world at least._

_He remembered his neighbor, Miss Missouri. She was always happy and laughed a lot. Always called him baby and smothered him in with a tight hug, a kiss to the check which would leave a lip print from her seemingly always painted lips followed with a just shy of being painful pinch of his cheek._

_Nearly every day Miss Missouri and his mother would sit on one or the others front porch, sipping lemonade or sweet tea and talk about the weather, the new neighbors or how well their gardens were coming along. Dean’s mother thought very highly of Miss Missouri and always seemed to enjoy their visits. Dean’s dad however did not care so much for her. John, Dean’s father, would say that Miss Missouri was nosey and loud and a little off her rocker. His mother, Mary, would just smile and say that she was harmless and that she was just happy and maybe a little eccentric._

_Dean always liked Miss Missouri well enough. Her house always smelled of freshly baked cookies, which there usually was, fresh flowers and a slightly earthy scent that sometimes stung his nose the closer he would get to the back room of her house. Dean wasn’t allowed in her back room. And even though it was at the very end of the hall, three whole doors away from the bathroom, it still gave him a little chill just laying eyes on the unassuming closed door. Dean had heard his mother say that’s where Miss Missouri worked, in her back room. Something about being a psychic, but John always gave a little huff when Mary called her that, and said she was just a con artist._

_Soon after Dean’s fourth birthday his mother had told him that he was going to be a big brother. He was so excited. The possibilities of what he and his little brother-because there was no way he was going to have a little sister ‘cause that would have been just awful-could do and play and discover together were endless. He also remembers hoping that a new brother would make his mom happy again, not cry so much, and maybe his dad wouldn’t yell so much with a new baby around._

_Then one night, actually very early morning, his mother came to his room and told him she was headed to the hospital and that the next time he saw her he would be a big brother. His dad picked him up and carried him next door to Miss Missouri, who was standing on the front porch in her night gown and house coat waiting with open arms. She settled him back down on the couch and when he woke up it was light outside and he just_ knew. _He already felt different, older, and somehow more responsible. Miss Missouri made him pancakes with a tall glass of milk and looked him straight in the eye as she spoke. “Dean, baby, your daddy called a little while ago to say you have a baby brother. Your mom’s just fine and they’ll be after you this afternoon.” She took a deep breath and leaned in closer, “Do you know what it means to be a big brother?” Dean shook his head yes. She just smiled and patted his arm. “This baby is brand new to this world and you’ve done been here a whole four years”. He gave her a look as he started to remind her he was four and a HALF, but she caught on. “Oh, excuse me, four and a half years. So you know so many more things than he does. So it’s up to you to teach him everything you know and to look out for him and to make sure he always does right. And that means you gotta do right, ‘cause he’s gonna be watching you. Even when you don’t think he is, he’ll be watching and thinking about how he wants to grow up to be just like his big brother Dean.” His grin nearly split his face and his chest swelled with so much pride it was hard to breathe. He was going to be the best big brother in the whole wide world._

_So when his dad pulled up out front, and Dean heard the rumble of his dad’s car, he tore through the door of Miss Missouri’s and jumped off her front porch and ran as fast as he could to get to his mom and his baby brother. He could see his mother stepping out of the front seat with his baby brother all bundled up and holding him tightly against her chest. He ran straight up to his mom and gave her the biggest hug in the history of hugs. She placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him toward the house. Once inside, she sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her. Dean climbed up as she asked, “Dean, you wanna meet your little brother?” He was speechless, all he could do was nod. “Dean. This is Samuel Winchester. But I think we’re gonna call him Sam”._

_Dean leaned over and pulled back the edge of the blanket so he could get a good look at his brother. “I think he’ll want me to call him Sammy” Dean said with the most knowing and thoughtful face a boy of four and a half years of age could muster. “Yes Dean, I’m sure you’re right. I bet he will love it if you call him Sammy.” Mary said as she smiled at him and brushed the hair away from his eyes. His mother had such a beautiful smile. That was probably the last time Dean can remember seeing her smile._

“Dean. Dean, Brother? You okay? Ya still with me?” Dean looks around and sees Benny smiling back at him with a small glint of concern in his eyes. “Thought I lost ya there for a second” Dean shakes the rest of the memory from his head and notices his once full cart is now empty and Benny is putting away his wallet. Dean starts, “Benny, I was gonna..” before he is interrupted. “ Ah, hell Dean. Ain’t nothing. I’m sure it’s my turn to buy a few anyways. And besides, ya looked kinda deep in thought there, didn’t wanna bother ya.” Dean lifts his hand to protest, or defend his momentary lapse in consciousness, but Benny just plows on. “Now, let’s get this stuff to the car and get outta here before some other well-meaning blue haired white knuckler stops us to give you advice on how to run your life.” Dean laughs at the very descript portrait Benny paints of the little ol’ ladies in town and follows up with a head nod “Yeah, if I have to face another one, I might just have to pop open one of those beers before we get out of the parking lot”

As they put the last of their groceries in the trunk, Benny gets a ding on his phone. Pulling it free from his front pocket, he looks at the screen with a frown and a renewed pep in his step. “That’s Meg. Says people are standing around holdin’ their hot dogs in their hands since we ain’t got back with the buns yet. We gotta get” Another text comes through, this time Benny laughs but looks a little scared. “Says if we don’t get back asap, the only place _my_ hotdog will be for the next few weeks is in my hand.” Dean throws his head back and laughs as he opens up the door to slide behind the wheel of his beloved car.

            “That is one scary woman you got there Bobby Boucher.” Dean says with his best Cajun accent. “Didn’t I warn you about her? You know that that Vicki Vallencourt is the debil!” Dean laughs again, shaking his head as he turns over the key and his ’67 Impala rumbles to life. “Man, I crack myself up”

            Benny maneuvers his huge form into the front seat. “Laugh it up brother. Bet you won’t be laughing long when I tell her you been calling her Vicki Vallencourt again” Dean gives him a quick pleading look out of the corner of his eye, and then looks back to the road as he pulls out of the parking lot. Dean would never come right out and admit it, but Meg Masters-Lafitte scares the hell out of him when she is pissed, and being compared to an uneducated felonious swamp rat, even in jest, pisses her off real quick. Benny glances back over at him and _knows_ he’s planning an escape strategy if he finds himself cornered by his wife. Benny chuckles, “Ah don’t worry. I won’t tell her. This time. Just get us back to the house as fast as ya can so these damn people can put their hotdogs in a bun the way God intended.” They both laugh at that, but Dean still lays on the accelerator just a touch more.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

            Castiel rolled over and slapped wildly at the obtrusive buzzing coming from the alarm clock. It was already 7:30am, but the sun had still not made it over the horizon. But it was spring in Irkutsk and that meant the sun would up any minute now, unlike the winter months when there are days when the damn thing doesn’t shine till nearly 10:30. And even then, it never really _shines_. Irkutsk is in Russia, the eastern part of Siberia to be more accurate, and the cloud cover here is a near constant. So actual sunshine, the kind that makes you squint from the brightness, the kind that puts off enough heat to make your skin turn a light shade of pink in just a few minutes, well, Irkutsk rarely gets that kind of sun no matter what time of day it is.

            Castiel rolls back over to stare at the ceiling and drops his right hand lazily to the other side of the bed. He finds what he’s looking for in the form of his still sleeping boyfriend, Balthazar. Castiel slowly strokes his hand up and down the back of the man lying next to him. He enjoys showing the man he shares his life with small gestures of affection, he wishes he could show him the same adoration outside the confines of their flat, but he can’t. Being a homosexual has always been regarded as one of the most blasphemous sins against the church and basically all of humanity in Russia, but it has gotten so much worse in the last decade or so. When Castiel was much younger, he can remember being scolded for even looking in the direction of a man who his father thought was gay, unless of course Castiel had planned on maybe spitting in his direction like some of the other people who passed by him. But now, people didn’t just spit. They hit, and kicked, and stabbed, and shot anyone who was suspected of being a homosexual. And sometimes even enduring such physical harm by complete strangers was better than having an actual authority figure witness the smallest act of same sex affection. Something as simple as rubbing the back of the man you love, was considered a punishable offense that carried an indeterminable amount of jail time.

            Castiel was always careful not to draw attention to himself and especially to his relationship to Balthazar, but his boyfriend was not so subtle. Standing too close, a casual touch on the back of the hand, even a lingering look could get them both into more trouble than Castiel cared to imagine, but it didn’t stop Balthazar from doing all those things and more while they were out in public. These reckless actions and Balthazar blatant disregard for their safety was what Castiel found the most infuriating and most endearing about the man. He wished he could be more like that at times. Free and unguarded instead of always to stiff and weighted. He tried to loosen up and be more spontaneous, more open and light, but then he would see someone look at him wrong and he would freeze up, panic. Balthazar told him it was all in his head. That no one gave them a second glance when they walked too close or shared a laugh coupled with a light touch down an arm, but Castiel knew differently. And this is why they fought. A lot.

            Castiel had met Balthazar their junior year of college. Castiel had been a music major with a minor in languages and Balthazar’s official major was business but he was more focused on drinking, partying and getting laid. He always told Castiel that his true major was _living life to the fullest._ They had hit it off right away, being polar opposites seemed to bring balance into each other’s lives. So after dating for two years and finally graduating, they took the next step and moved in together, but if anyone asked Castiel they were roommates. Just two newly graduated young men who couldn’t afford to live on their own in such an expensive city.

They shared a two bedroom flat on the third floor of a rundown building on the out skirts of town. The second bedroom was for appearances and not really because they needed the extra room, but Castiel insisted. Most of the neighbors were nice enough and kept to themselves. But Castiel felt they could never be too careful. So when they had come home the night before, slightly more than tipsy and loudly stumbling down the hallway toward their flat, Castiel had momentarily forgotten where he was when Balthazar pushed him up against the wall and kissed him for all he was worth. It had taken him by surprise and he didn’t come back to his senses until he heard a door down the hall open up. He panicked. And sure, he probably pushed Balthazar far harder than was strictly necessary, but it was for their own safety. The hurt he had seen flit over Balthazar’s face as he stepped past him to unlock the door was heartbreaking. Castiel had went straight to the spare bedroom and hid in the dark, either from Balthazar or the angry mob that was sure to come take them away, he wasn’t sure which. He had made his way to their bed around 3am and finally looked at the clock last around 5. This is where he found himself at this moment. Trying to pour all his love and apology into the soft touch of his hand running up and down his lovers back.

“Good morning Cassie, didn’t hear you come to bed.” He wasn’t sure if this was said as accusingly as he heard it, but he wouldn’t blame Balthazar for still being hurt. He took a deep breath, “about last night Balth, I am so sorry. I heard someone opening their door, and I just panicked. You know I would never intentionally push you away. Not if we were somewhere safe.” Balthazar turned over to face Castiel and took his hand as he laced their fingers together, “yes dear, I know. And I’m sorry I put you in a spot like that, but sometimes I just loose myself when I look at you. I love you and I want the whole world to know it.” Castiel goes to raise his other hand in protest, the one not laced with Balthazar’s but he pushes forward, “Yes, yes, I know Cassie. It’s too dangerous. I should be happy that we are even allowed to have what we have. I shouldn’t push our luck. And every other thing you always say when you feel I have been too open or showy.” He props himself up on his elbow so he can study Castiel’s face as he brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Darling, I would never let anything happen to you. I would give my life to keep any harm from coming to even one of your unruly beautiful dark locks of hair.” He gently cups the side of Castiel’s face as he smile and brushes his lips with the faintest of kisses. He pulls back with a cleansing and thoughtful sigh, “One day Cassie. We will make it to the United States where we will be free to hold hands as we walk down the street. Kiss good-bye as I board the train every morning to go to work. Make out like teenagers in the back of the theatre instead of watching the movie.” Castiel leans lightly into the hand that still holds his face and closes his eyes as he imagines the life Balthazar is describing. “But until that day comes Cassie, I will do my best to keep you safe. Keep us safe and keep my hands and my tongue to myself when we are outside of these four walls.” With a quick peck to the cheek, he sits up, unwinds their hands and heads to the bathroom for a shower before work. Castiel lays there staring at the ceiling for a moment longer and breathes out a small prayer to no one in particular, “ Please let those days of freedom and happiness find us before the darkness drags us to a place of no return.”

***

For the first time in, well, forever, Dean was free. Free in the sense that no one needed him, not really anyway. He literally could not remember the last time he didn’t have any one to look out for, to take care of, or to be responsible for. He had always been the protector, the care giver, the selfless sacrificial son, bother, friend…whatever the situation called for. But now, now it was just him. No one _needed_ him. Well that wasn’t entirely true. His brother still needed him for their pizza/beer/movie nights, and he could see where his friends might still need him to help move furniture or man the grill at a cook out, but all those _needs_ could be filled with anyone with a strong back and two hands, one to flip the burgers and one to hold the beer. So Dean was at a loss as what to do with himself.

Usually, when he found himself needing to fill in some down-time or blow off a little steam, he would go on the prowl for a willing and able participant who was looking to do the same. But honestly, he didn’t really have any stress that needed to be relieved and the down time he had now was far too much to try and fill with a fleeting rendezvous that usually began with liquor and ending in a sleazy motel or the back of the impala. Sure, he went out a few nights a week, but going to the Roadhouse for a few beers and a round of pool didn’t really count. It was more of a home away from home and besides, Ellen his surrogate mother nor Jo, the little sister he never wanted, wouldn’t let him get away with much as long as they were there. And since Ellen owned the joint and her daughter Jo worked there most nights while finishing up college, one of them was _always_ there.

So he got up the courage to drive into Austin one Saturday night. He had been on autopilot when he left the house, since he drove Hwy 71W every day to get to work, but when he didn’t take the exit toward the airport, he started to get nervous. As he turned down South Congress, a part of Austin lined with bars and clubs he had enjoyed for a short time while still in high school, his heart was in his throat. His mouth was dry and his hands were starting to hurt from gripping the steering wheel so tight. Traffic was at a near standstill, which was part blessing, seeing how his vision was starting to blur with each rapid breath he took, and a huge hindrance, because if he sat there in traffic any longer he was sure to have a full blown panic attack. The sidewalks were full of people walking and laughing, waving people over or running up to lean into the car windows of a friend or would-be hook up.

When the light turned green, Dean laid on his horn and weaved around two other cars to get to a side street to make his getaway. Dean felt old. No, not old, just so far out of place and removed from this scene it made his stomach churn. He drove straight home and didn’t even bother turning on a light as he slammed through the front door. His keys landed on the table and his jacket somewhere on the floor. He grabbed the bottle of Jack, sans glass, and flopped down at the end of the couch. When he woke the next morning, he had barely changed positions. He had only slumped down a little, with one foot on the floor while the other was half dangled off the edge of the sofa. The now nearly empty bottle being held tight against his chest. He hadn’t even taken off his boots.

It had been a rather short lived spring, like most springs in Texas. There is like five maybe six weeks between winter and summer, if you’re lucky, of pleasant weather. Nice warm days that can still bring about a sweat but only if there is a strenuously physical activity involved, followed up with clear, pleasantly cool nights that beg to have the windows open as you drift off to sleep. And then you wake up one morning and it feels as though hell has cracked open and made central Texas its bitch. Today was that day.

Dean was showered, shaved and out the door by his usual 6 am. Coffee in one hand and a microwaveable breakfast burrito in the other. He was maybe three steps off his front stoop and already sweat was beading up on his forehead. Yep, it was officially summer and this was nothing compared to what was in store for him once he got to work. As much as Dean loves his job and most the people he works with or near, this was what he hates the most. The heat.

Dean had been employed as part of the maintenance/mechanics crew at Austin-Bergstrom International Airport for the last three, nearly four, years. Benny had talked him into going to school in Houston for jet engine mechanics and then hired him as soon as he graduated. Benny had attended that same school when his football scholarship fell through his freshman year at NSU, Northwestern State University of Louisiana, after a career ending injury. He had been devastated, but he had already met and fell in love with Meg Masters, so according to Benny it had all worked out the way it was supposed to.

Dean pulled into the employee parking lot as he drained the last of his coffee. Checking his pocket for his phone, keys and badge, he cracked the window a bit and locked his baby up for the day. He passed the guard shack with a nod and a flash of his badge as he proceeded through the gate and into the mechanics garage. He needed to get started on whatever work orders may have accumulated over the weekend and hopefully get them knocked out before he started to slow roast.

He stood in front of the board that held the day’s assignments when he heard his phone ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and gave a small grin when the name of the caller showed up as My Lady. He opened the phone and stared up into the security camera that was strategically placed just a few feet above his head in the corner of the garage. Before he could even say good morning, he was bombarded with a round of fast paced questions and observations.

“Hey Dean, you look like shit! What happened to you this weekend? I thought we were gonna hang and watch a movie, or watch you lose miserably in a friendly game of Call of Duty against the master. Me being the master of course. I called you like 5 times yesterday and sent you several witty text messages and got nada in return. What do you have to say for yourself Mr. Winchester?”

“Jeez, Charlie. Good morning to you too.” He flashed his best you-know-you-can’t-stay-mad-at-me smile right into the security camera lens.

“Don’t give me that look. I want answers. I was actually worried about you”

Dean dropped his gaze slightly. He felt a little twinge of guilt. He never thought she would be worried about him. “Just got a little carried away with the booze and passed out on the couch. Which is where I lost my phone and couldn’t find it for most of the day since it had died sometime during the night.”

“Uh huh. I thought you got over Lisa, like months ago.”

“I am! I just didn’t realize how much I had drank. I was watching one of those stupid Ghostfacers marathons, and every time they asked an empty room if there was anyone around who wished to communicate, I took a shot. I had no idea how much they say that shit, did you?” Dean really hoped she was buying this. No way could he tell her about the big freak out he had, very literally, driving down memory lane.

“Haha, no I never really noticed. But really Dean, a drinking game all by your lonesome?”

“Yeah, well, just wasn’t in the mood for company I guess. So, I’m guessing your weekend was better than mine. Get into anything worth repeating?” He hoped she took the bait of the subject change.

“Nah, not really. Spent Friday night dominating WOW, then Saturday I went and checked out a new bar in Austin, over on South Congress. Lots of promising prospects for the next future ex-girlfriend of one Charlie Bradbury. Oh, gotta go Dean. We have what looks to be an irate all-American one percenter being pulled out for a random check. Garth will need back up for sure on this one.” With a slight shake of the head, Dean slips his phone back in his phone and thanks whoever is listening that Charlie seemed to buy his lame story of what he did all weekend and that somehow they had managed to miss one another Saturday night.

Dean grabs up a few of the easier work orders, the ones that can be done solo, and heads out of the office and towards the first building containing the broken down luggage mover that needs to be looked at.   As he’s trying to decode the transporters ‘reason for maintenance needed’ as it includes phrases like ‘making a clanky noise’ and ‘was real jerky when I pushed on the gas’, Dean’s phone rings again. He grabs it and answers it without even looking at the screen, “Oh please tell me Garth did something you tube worthy and you got it backed up and ready for mass distribution”

“I don’t know who taught you how to answer your phone boy, but I guarantee that’s not the way to do it.”

Dean immediately stills and looks down at the caller name. Miss Missouri. Shit.

“Sorry Miss Missouri, I thought you were someone else.”

“I figured as much. And you better quit giving that boy Garth such a hard time, he may have a hand in turning your life around one day and I sure would hate for you to feel guilty for all the jokin’ you been havin’ at his expense.”

Instantly brought back to being the passive, respectful, little boy Dean always was in the presence of Missouri Mosley, he drops his head and slumps his shoulders forward and starts to rub at the back of his neck, “Yes Miss Missouri. I’ll try and be nicer to him. Is there something wrong? You never call me just out of the blue like this. I got a few days saved up if I need to head to Lawrence for any reason.”

“No baby, everything’s fine up here. Don’t you worry. Now, straighten up before you get a catch in your back and if you don’t quit all that rubbin’ at the back of your neck you’re gonna wind up with a heat rash.” How did she do that? Still, he raised his chin, removed his hand from his neck and promptly shoved in his front pocket, stood up straight and squared his shoulders just like he was standing right in front of her. “That’s better. I didn’t mean to bother you at work. I called thinking maybe I’d catch you on vacation. On a beach somewhere. Keep having these dreams about you staring out into the bluest of oceans or up at the clearest of skies.”

“Nah, Miss Missouri. You know me, I’m not the type to just go lay around on a beach all day. Besides, since me and Lisa broke up, I can’t imagine taking a vacation. Wouldn’t have anyone to take with me and I’d be bored trying to go someplace like that alone.”

“I know, I know. And you best just go ahead and get over that girl, because you and I both know she wasn’t the one for you Dean. I’m tellin’ ya, happiness is coming your way baby and you better be looking out for it. Keep getting’ these peeks at you with a smile plastered across your face a mile wide while your practically drowning in a sea of the most magnificent color of blue.” Dean knew better than to question Miss Missouri and her ‘peeks’. She usually only called on his birthday, or Sam’s, or on the anniversary of some tragic life event he’d soon rather forget, but occasionally she called just to say he had been on her mind. Or rather, in her mind. Either way, he knew better than to question her or the validity of her ‘peeks’.

“Well, I will be sure to keep that in mind Miss Missouri.” Dean replied rather emptily and hoped with all his might she didn’t pick on up it. “Mm hmm, you be sure to do that baby. ‘Cause next time I talk to you I ‘spect I’ll hear a whole different tone out you. Now get back to work before it gets too hot.”

“Yes ma’am” he says with a smile and a little more meaning. “Ah, thanks for calling and be sure to call if you ever need anything.”

“Dean, you always were a good little boy. Take care now baby.” And with that, the second, and by far the strangest, phone call of the day had ended and it wasn’t even 8am yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Castiel had woken up to the bedroom bathed in sunlight. It was finally getting to be summer and that meant the sun actually got up before he did. And today was especially beautiful since there wasn’t a cloud in the sky which was saying something for his corner of the world.

Between the sunshine and the good mood it had brought about in him, today had been just one of those days for Castiel, where everything goes right and you’re truly happy to be alive. Even the fact that warm sunny days always reminded him of being young and living with his family in his tiny home town of Yagat, couldn’t bring him down. In fact, Castiel only let his mind wonder to happy memories of his childhood and the home he shared with his older brother Gabriel and his little sister Anna. All of them safe and happy and loved. The only sadness he felt was the fact that as the years have passed he had all but forgotten his oldest brother Michael. Castiel had only been five when he was killed, Michael had just turned sixteen, but at least he had those few years’ worth of memories. Anna had been just a baby and would never know the brother who had been so happy to finally have a little sister. Michael couldn’t wait to play the role of protector, teach her to be strong and independent, and most of all dote on her like the princess he just knew she would turn out to be. Maybe it was better this way. If Michael had lived to see what became of Anna, it would’ve killed him. But then again, if Michael had been alive when their world had completely fallen apart maybe he could’ve saved her, and Castiel. He shook his head to free himself from such depressing thoughts. This was a rarely seen gorgeous day and he wasn’t about to waste it thinking of what could’ve been and what could never be.

Monday’s were always one of Castiel’s shorter days. His mornings were usually spent in the music room at the university cleaning up, restringing instruments that needed it, organizing sheet music, chairs and stands for the classes that would be held in there for the rest of the week. Castiel knew this building and this room like the back of his hand. When he had been a student here, this had been his sanctuary, his escape from all his tormentors. Even the ones inside his head would quiet down as he began to play many of the classical pieces that came as natural as breathing for him.

Castiel picked up the 4/4 Eastman 305, that was standard issue for the university, for a full size cello to be used in class and lower level orchestras, and began to play the first few bars of Beethoven Cello Sonata No.3. He closed his eyes as the music washed over him and began to relax him, even more so than the sun shining high in the sky as he had walked here from the trolley station.

He came to an abrupt stop mid slide of the bow as he spotted someone standing in the doorway of the classroom. “Oh Cassie, don’t stop on my account. You know how much I love to watch you play.” Balthazar began to walk toward the seat Castiel was occupying. “How your hands hold that bow with such strength and care as it gracefully slides across the strings.” Castiel looked around nervously to make sure no one else was privy to the words that were spilling from his boyfriend’s mouth.

“Please, Balthazar. Someone may hear you.” He said in a loud whisper and a small scowl on his face. “Cassie” he sighed, “no one else is ever here on a Monday but you.” He lifted his hand to caress the side of Castiel’s face but stopped short when he seen the panic flash in his eyes. Instead, he placed his hand on his shoulder and leaned down to speak quietly, “One day Cassie, when I am swimming in money, I’m going to take you away. Somewhere like Paris, or London, or even San Francisco in the States. Somewhere that I can kiss you, push you up against a building in broad daylight and throw my arms around your waist as you go weak in the knees.”

Castiel smiled up at him and laid the bow and cello to the side. “That does sound nice Balth” He stood up and composed himself, “Now, to what do I owe the honor of your presence this early on a Monday morning.”

“Ah, my Cassie. You are always the one who wants to get straight to the point. Never any foreplay with you is there.” He said with a wink and huge knowing grin. “I came by to tell you that my meeting with the new investors has been moved up to this afternoon. They want to meet for an early dinner and drinks downtown, so I won’t be home till after nine I’m sure.”

“That’s fine. I only have two lessons scheduled for this afternoon so this will give me a chance to maybe work on some of my music without being interrupted.” Castiel gave him a sheepish grin to let him know that his interruptions weren’t really a bother. “Good luck Balthazar, I am sure they will be as charmed by you as everyone else always is. Just be careful. It will be past dark when you get back to our side of town.”

“Yes dear.” Balthazar replies in the mocking tone of a put upon teenager. And with that, he takes a few steps backwards towards the exit, throws his hand up and discreetly blows Castiel a kiss, then turns and passes through the door and out of sight.

Castiel finishes up at the school and heads over to the trolley station to catch a car headed to the other side of the city where the richest of the rich live in gated mansions as servants cater to their every need. These are the people that can afford to pay him for private lessons, including travel time and expenses, so Castiel can’t complain. And even though some of his clients’ children were spoiled little brats that only took music lessons because it was expected and forced upon them by their parents, the two he had to teach today actually had a real love for music. With the knowledge that he was headed to tutor his two favorite students, he squinted out the window of the trolley into the bright sunlight and felt the breeze on his face. He let a small smile play across his face and was reminded once again just how wonderful this day was turning out to be.

A few hours later and Castiel was sitting in the back of the trolley car headed back to his side of town. He couldn’t wait to get home. The image of Balthazar smiling at him as he played today keep flashing through his mind. He knew Balthazar loved him and he felt pretty safe in thinking he was happy with their relationship, but Castiel knew Balth wanted more. More time, more openness, and he was sure he wanted more intimacy.

Castiel was no prude, he liked to feel good and even more so, he liked to make Balth feel good. He had been in touch with his sexuality since he was fourteen, and had totally accepted it by the age of eighteen. He knew what he liked and he could definitely give as good as he could get, but he just never felt as though he could relax. When they had first started dating, he was always afraid someone would turn the corner as they stole a kiss, or that they would forget to lock the door to Castiel’s dorm room and someone would walk in and catch them in the middle of making out or worse. Balthazar, as well as Castiel, had hoped once they were out of school and in their own place things would be different. Instead, now Castiel was always worried that someone would hear them through the paper thin walls of the apartment even with the music turned up. Or that someone would see them through a crack in the window curtains, even if Balthazar pointed out every time he used that excuse that they lived on the third floor and the fire escape was for shit. Needless to say, their sex life left them both a little on the under satisfied side of things.

Castiel was shaken by the abrupt stop of the trolley, he looked to see that he was at the station near his building. He hopped off and headed home, smiling to himself and with maybe just a little more skip in his step. He had plans for Balthazar tonight when he got home from his meeting, good plans.

***

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful for Dean, other than the oppressing heat, which he knew was only going to get worse. He had managed to knock several work orders out all by himself and thus avoided having to talk to anyone since his crazy phone calls this morning. As he made his way through the gate toward the employee parking, he couldn’t help but replay what Miss Missouri had said to him. He was so lost inside his own head that he nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone rang and vibrated in his pocket. He dropped his keys as he tried to shuffle his lunch box from one hand to the next. He swiped his phone to answer it as he grabbed his keys and went to stand up, catching his head on the underside of the side view mirror. “Sonuvabitch!”

“Dean? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m fine. Just kind of having a bad day. What’s up?”

“Nothing, can’t I just call and check on my big brother?” Humph, Sam was so transparent. “Ah, no, not usually. Who’d ya talk to?” Hoping he said Charlie and that Miss Missouri hadn’t called Sammy too.

“Just happened to text Charlie to see how the Call of Duty beat down went Sunday. You know the one you blew me off to have with her? Except, she tells me she didn’t see or hear from you all weekend. Sooo, thought I would make sure everything was okay and see what was so important for you to blow us both off or did you just sit around drinking and being a hermit all weekend.” Dean could practically hear the judgmental bitch face Sam was surely sporting about right now.

“Nothing’s wrong Sammy. Can’t a guy just have a little peace and quiet every now and then. Ya know, just sit around and enjoy his own company.” Dean says that last little part with two quick clicks of his mouth in hopes of making a double innuendo and grossing his baby brother out.

“First off, Eww. And second, no, not you Dean. When left to your own devices the last thing you do is enjoy your own company. Unless you call getting drunk and wallowing in an overabundance of self-deprecating inner monologue ‘peace and quiet’ then sure, but I think you may need a new dictionary.” Now Sam has not only plastered on the bitch face, but Dean can _hear_ him using air quotes. Dammit.

Dean had already made his way behind the wheel and rolled down the windows trying to let out the heat that had built up inside the Impala all day. He pulled his free hand down his face in an effort to compose himself and not give too much away about why he spent all weekend alone. Sam always worried about Dean sitting around getting drunk all by himself, guess it hit a little too close to home for Sam. And honestly, it did for Dean as well, but sometime shit just happens and drinking alone is the only cure. “It was nothing. I promise. I’m sorry I lied, but I didn’t’ want you to worry. I had a little too much to drink Saturday night and just wanted to stay in bed all day Sunday. And yes, I was at home. Drinking alone. And I know how much you hate when I do that and why, but I didn’t set out to drink so much that I felt like shit the whole next day, just happened. Now, I’m sweatin’ more than a whore in church sittin in this black car with no air conditioner, not even the two at 55 kind. So is there anything else you need Sam, or can we pick this up later. When I’m at home.” Dean tried for nonchalant with just a small side of aggravation, but he knew it came out more the other way around.

“Sure Dean. Whatever. Well, just wanted to remind you I was headed out of town for a few weeks. I’ve got that ACLU conference in Dallas, and then once I get back from that, me and Jess are headed to Barbados for two weeks. So, yeah. Ya know, just wanted to make sure everything was going okay.” Dean started to remind Sam just who the big brother _was_ in this little family of theirs, but stopped short. He knew Sam meant well, and it’s not like Dean has never given him a reason to worry, so…”Yes, Sammy, I’m fine. Just hung over, and for no particular reason. Don’t plan on doing it again anytime soon either.”

“Yeah, well according to you, ya didn’t ‘plan’ on doing it this time. Just snuck up on you” Huh. Sam always did have a way of proving his point. “I know, I know. Really though Sammy. I felt like shit all day Sunday, that lesson will stick with me. At least till y’all get back from vacation. So go have fun! Get some sun, relax, drink one for me, and take care of that wife of yours before she comes to her senses and wonders how the hell she ever got shackled to the likes of you” Dean knows Sammy is smiling and shaking his head in agreement. If they agree on nothing else, they both know Sam hit the wife lottery with Jess.

“Jess knows how lucky she is. So whatever Jerk”

“Bitch. And I wouldn’t get too cocky. ‘Least not where she can hear you. Now you two crazy kids go have fun and don’t worry about me. Just call me when you get back, we’ll go out for a few beers.” And with that Dean hits the end button, wipes the sweat off his brow, puts his baby in gear and heads for the highway. The air conditioning only works when he’s moving. With the two windows down. Driving 55.

***

After Castiel finished his dinner, he started to feel a little nervous. Not _nervous_ nervous, but like he had this energy buzzing just under his skin. So he cleaned and straightened and cleaned some more. But he was still too anxious. So he pulled out his cello. Playing had always calmed him down and help clear his head. His cello was his prized possession. It was a beautifully hand crafted 4/4 Alexandru Ozon. Sure, he had spent every dime he had ever saved to buy it, but when he played it he felt as though it was just an extension of himself. Like a limb he never knew he missed, so how could you put a price on a missing body part. After running through Beethoven Cello Sonata No.3 and then Bach Cello Suite No.1, he was tired but in a good way. Checking the time he noticed it was nearly 8pm. The sun was still out, but would be setting by 9 tonight for sure. As much as he hated to see such a beautiful day slip away, it reminded him of the gorgeous night he had planned, so he went to jump in the shower and get ready for Balthazar to come home.

Castiel stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and still dripping water from his hair. Usually he would never walk around in such a state of undress for fear that someone could knock on the door or see through the curtains but tonight he sees no need to get dressed. He was just going to be naked, in bed, prepped and ready and waiting for Balthazar when he got home. Balth would be surprised for sure, this was not something they did often. Castiel didn’t mind bottoming, truth be known he liked it. A lot. But in that position he just felt too vulnerable, exposed, unrestrained. And Balthazar was always understanding and never complained.

Castiel had shut off all the lights except for a small light over the sink in the kitchen, glanced at the clock that read 9:15 and then back at the message he received from Balthazar while he was in the shower.

>9:05 Cassie darling, everything went great. I got them signed on as our newest clients and they want only me to handle their work! Can’t wait to tell you all about it in person. Leaving here in 10 minutes, should be home by 10. 143

Castiel smiled to himself. He and Balthazar had started that little code back in college. 143. I(1 letter) Love(4 letters) You(3 letters). They would leave it in random places for each other to find. They could even write it one the white board that hung on the outside of their dorm door, so the other would see it between classes and no one would be the wiser. He headed back to the bedroom, put the phone on charge and dropped his towel in the floor beside the bed. He stretched out on top of the sheets with the duvet pushed down near his feet. It was warm enough that no cover was needed. He had grabbed the lube out of the table when he plugged his phone in, so it now lay within reach when he was ready.

The sheets were nice and cool against his naked body. He was nearly dry now, except for his hair which was making a wet spot at the head of the bed. Castiel lay on his back with his leg slightly spread and his arms out to each side. He started to gently caress up and down his chest with his left hand as his right slid down his body and palmed over his half hard cock. Sliding his hand just a bit lower, he rolls his balls around with the tips of his fingers. His cock becomes harder now as he moved his hand back up to lace his fingers around it lightly. His other hand had found its way to the top of his inner thigh and he spreads his legs more to allow himself better access. His long deft fingers rub across the side of his balls and begin to massage his perineum, each time slipping a finger lower until he is pressing between the crack and gently circling his hole.

He quickly grabs the lube with his right hand and pores out a good amount, coating his fingers and rolling it around until it warms just a bit. His right hand instinctively goes back to slowly jacking his now fully hard penis as he spreads his legs wider and moves the lubed fingers directly to his hole. Smearing some of the excess at the entrance, he pushes his middle finger past the rim and up to just past the first knuckle. His breath catches and he lets out a soft moan. He begins to slowly circle his finger around his inner walls to make room for another. The feeling is incredible and he has to stop the glide of his hand on his cock and hold it with a slightly firm grip. The finger is pushed further inside him, past the second knuckle and his hips come off the bed an inch or two. He spreads his legs wider, bends his knees and pulls them slightly off the bed to get a better angle. Castiel pulls out his middle finger, all but the tip before he draws his first finger close to it and pushes back in with both. The initial sting and burn is to be expected, he has not done this in a while, but it fades quickly and he pushes them in deeper with a slight twist of his wrist to help stretch him wider. With every push in his fingers are knit together but as he pulls them back out, he spreads them apart and drags them across the inside of his body. His cock lays on his stomach leaning toward his right side as he works his ass with his left and grips the sheets with his right. He is now practically fucking himself on his fingers, feet flat on the bed, knees bent and legs laid as wide open as he could get them. Just as he adds a third, he has to once again grip the base of his cock firmly to try and shut down the overwhelming need for friction and satisfaction. A light sheen of sweat has broken out over his chest and brow and nearly every exhale is accompanied by a deep moan. He knows if he doesn’t stop soon he may not be able to stop at all and he wants to share this with Balthazar. Wants to give this to him so he can let go and just enjoy. He is stopped short by a knock at the door.

He freezes for merely a second, before he realizes Balthazar must have forgotten his key. Again. He leans over and grabs the towel from the floor, wiping off his hands. The knock at the door gets louder. “One second!” He grabs a pair of pajama pants from the chest and makes quick work of getting them up, sans underwear. He grabs a t-shirt and heads for the door as he pulls it over his head. The knocking has now turned into a pounding. “Dammit Balthazar!” Castiel reaches for the lock to get it unlatched, then for the knob to open the door. “Of all the nights for you to forget your keys, it had to be this one” but his last few words die on his lips when he swings the door open to find two police officers standing in front of him and not a keyless boyfriend.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It’s late July and all Dean can do is sweat. Texas in the dead of summer is bad enough, but when square miles of asphalt littered with huge metal buildings makes up your place of employment, the word HOT just doesn’t do it justice. So when Dean gets a text from Sam checking to see if he is up for a few cold ones at the Roadhouse that night, he fires back a “Hells yeah! See you around 7”. He finishes up the work order he has open for the cooling system of a refrigerator unit from a 747 and begins to put away his tools. When he graduated from the jet mechanic school in Houston a few years back, it was _not_ to work on mini-fridges, but he was still low man on the totem pole, and with that came the little jobs no one else wanted to do. On the bright side, he practically had a whole building and all the tools he needed all to himself.

After a nice cool shower and laying across the bed to air dry under the ceiling fan, Dean got dressed and headed to The Roadhouse. Walking through the front doors of the run down building always felt like coming home, and during a few rough times over the years it had been just that. Home. He threw his hand up and waved at a few of the regulars. Old timers, born and raised in the area, who sat around reliving the glory days of their high school football games and keeping track, even now, with the kids on the team, the ones coming up and the ones moving on. In Texas, football was second only to God and Country. If you played football, and were any good, the whole town knew you by name, and your parents’ names, your brothers’ and sisters’ names, hell they even knew your dog’s name if you had one. And more importantly, they knew all your stats and always had “advice” on what you could do to play better, run faster, and throw harder. Oh, and who you should hang with, what kind of trouble you should get into, and which cheerleader you should date. Dean had dealt with all of that first hand back when he played ball in high school. It was a lot of pressure, and even though his career ended abruptly and not the way he had intended it to _at all,_ that was his silver lining. No more pressure, not from them at least.

            Dean rounded the bar to the left and headed for the back corner table where his brother was already sitting, beer in hand and one already on the table for him. “Hey Sammy, good to see you” Dean grabbed his brother on the shoulder with one hand as the other grabbed the beer off the table. “Guess you haven’t been here long, glass is still frosty.” He drank nearly half of it in one go, and damn near got a brain freeze for his effort.

            “Nah, just got here a few minutes ago.” Sam paused to watch his brother drain almost half a mug of beer without a breath. “Good to see you too Dean. Everything going okay? How’s work?”

            “Hot Sammy. Seventh level of Hell hot. Other than that, not bad. So, how ‘bout you? How was your work thing? More importantly, how was your vacation?” Dean polished off the rest of his beer, caught the eye of the waitress and with a smile and a small tip of his now empty mug, he ordered up another one.

            “Ah, it was good. The conference in Dallas was very informative and inspiring. The laws the ACLU are lobbying to have put on the books to protect anyone from being harmed or discriminated due to sexual orientation or preference are phenomenal. The country has come a long way, Texas in particular, in ensuring the rights of everyone to be whom they truly are and love who they want. We still have a ways to go yet, but things really have changed Dean. It’s not like it was when you were in high school.” Sam says the last part with an unspoken plea at the end, doing his best to sound reassuring and accepting, without pushing.

            Dean has heard this from Sam too many times to count. He knows Sam means well, just wants to see his big brother happy, but it’s not something he’s willing to risk again. Because for some reason, Dean Winchester isn’t allowed to be happy, not really anyway, not without something bad happening and bringing it all crashing down. He has made peace with this fact, he wished Sam would do the same. “Yeah, I hear you Sammy and I’m sure a lot has changed, legally that is. But people don’t change, opinions don’t change, and I’m not going through that ever again. More importantly, I’m not dragging some poor schmuck through that either.” Dean stops to take a deep breath and take a few mental steps back, before he gets all worked up and storms out. Slowly exhaling he pushes on, “I know you want to help Sammy, but let it go. It’s never gonna happen. It’s just not meant to be.” Dean drags his hand down his face, hoping when he looks back at Sam he doesn’t see the pleading puppy dog eyes. “So, tell me about vacation. How was Barbados?”

            “Oh Dean, it. Was. Awesome. The villa we stayed in opened right up to the ocean, and even had a glass section in the floor so you could sit and watch little fish swim by. And the water. I have never seen water that blue. Hardly ever a cloud in the sky, so when you looked out on the horizon it was hard to tell where the sky stopped and the ocean started. It was beautiful” Sam continued to ramble on about the food, and another couple they met that was close to the same age as he and Jess, but Dean kind of tuned him out. As soon as Sam described the ocean as _blue,_ his mind wondered back to the phone call he received from Miss Missouri. _She must be getting senile in her old age, I knew she had me and Sam mixed up._ It didn’t matter that for one fleeting moment Dean had believed what she had said about happiness headed his way. True happiness to be found in the color blue. He drained his second beer and pushed the slight feeling of disappointment aside. At least Sam was happy.

***

            It had all seemed so surreal. Almost an out of body experience. The police asking about Balthazar, and if Castiel knew how to get ahold of any of his family. They were sure it was him because of the ID which is how they ended up beating on the door, but the body was so severely beaten that a relative would need to verify his identity to be sure. He had passed along Hannah’s information, knowing that if anyone would show up it would be her. They rest of the family had written Balthazar off years ago. Two agonizing days later Hannah stopped by the apartment to retrieve a few oh Balthazar’s personal affects.

            She had been accompanied by their older brother Uriel who barely stepped across the threshold of the flat and looked to be on the verge of puking the entire time they were there. “I don’t know why you want any of his things Hannah.” Uriel called down the hall after her while side eyeing Castiel with disgust. “I’m sure he has nothing of import to you or me. As far as I’m concerned, all his things can be burned in the same manner he was and the family can finally put this whole thing behind us”.

            Castiel sat nearly comatose from shock. He knew most of Balthazar’s family had disowned him, but he really didn’t expect this. But he said nothing. He did nothing. He was terrified if he moved, if Uriel looked him in the eye, he would turn to stone and crumble.

            “Oh Uriel! No matter his choices, he was still our brother. And Castiel’s friend, so please try and show a little respect.” Hannah was now back in the tiny living room with a few random items and some old pictures in her arms.

            “Friend indeed.’ Uriel turned to face Castiel dead on. ‘Being _friends_ with Castiel is what got him exiled from the family and finally killed! Let’s go Hannah. The sooner we all put this behind us the better.” Uriel turned on his heel and headed out the door and down the hall of the building.

            Hannah now turned to face Castiel. She placed a soft hand on his shoulder and tried to give him a sympathetic smile, even as her eyes filled with tears. “I am so sorry Cassie. I know you wanted to be there for the services, what little there was, and I know he would have wanted you there. But the rest of the family insisted.” She gave his shoulder a small squeeze and motioned to her arm filled with mementos, “I hope you don’t mind. I took back the sweater I gave him a few Christmases ago and a few pictures and his finishing school blazer, I can’t believe he even still had this.” She stares down at the items like she expects them to talk back to her. To tell her why he still had his school blazer, why she hadn’t been able to keep in touch with him more, why he was dead.

            Castiel just nodded. That’s all he could do. He hadn’t spoken a word since opening the door that night and answering the questions posed by the police. He was afraid to speak. He was afraid it would come out as a scream like the constant one inside his head. Hannah stroked his face and wiped away a stray tear. “Castiel, listen to me. You can’t let this stop you from living. Balthazar wouldn’t have wanted that and you know it. I went by his company yesterday and signed all the necessary paper work. They will be sending me his final paycheck including his commissions for the year thus far, but I want you to have it. To help pay for the flat until you can find another room mate or a smaller place. I will have it to you by the end of next week. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I can do right now.” She lowered herself down to get eye level with Castiel, “He loved you Castiel, you meant the world to him. Please don’t sit here and let his death kill you too. He wanted so much better for the two of you, so now you have to find better for yourself. That’s what he would have wanted. For you to live and be happy and free to love anyone you choose without fear or constraints.” Hannah leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead and ruffled his hair just a bit. She gave him one last closed lipped smile as she stood and walked out the door, shutting it behind her.

            It took three more days before Castiel went outside the confines of their, no his, apartment. He managed fairly well as he walked down the familiar hallway and into the lobby. But once he stepped outside. Once he was confronted with people walking past him, cars passing by, the bell of the trolley, all the noises of the city, he froze. He was practically blown back with the feeling of knowing exactly what he had to do. He had to leave. He had to get out of this town, this country, this continent. This was no longer his home. There was nothing here for him now, it all felt so foreign. For one brief moment he was reminded of Anna. How he had promised himself he would find her, care for her and never leave her again. But it had been ten years. Ten years and still not a clue where she may be, or if she was even still alive. Castiel’s panic came back with the thought that Anna may be dead. He had to get out.

            As if by some divine intervention, Castiel was greeted by his neighbor as he passed him in the hall on his way back to his flat.” Castiel is it?”

            “Yes, that’s correct. And you are Gavriil I believe. You are in apartment 3F.”

            “That’s me. Hey, I was real sorry to hear about your roommate. Seen him out in the hallway sometimes, he’d say ‘Hello’ and he always seemed so happy. So, you going to stay in your flat or move to a smaller one?”

            Castiel didn’t detect any implications when Gavriil said the word ‘roommate’ and even though this man was a stranger, it still felt nice to hear someone give him condolences. “Actually, I am planning on putting in for an out of country work visa. I have always wanted to go to America.”

            “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. But you know it could take up to a year to get your visa approved, and even then there is no guarantees they will let you actually use it.”

            This was not good news. “Oh, I had no idea it took that long. There is no way I can afford this apartment alone for that long, and to find and move to a smaller one would take nearly a year as well.” The panic and worry must have been written on Castiel’s face like a flashing neon light.

            “You know, I have a cousin who could get you a work visa in just a few short weeks. Even handle all your travel accommodations, for a small fee of course.” Gavriil had leaned in and spoke this information in barely a whisper. Castiel had heard of these arrangements before, and although very illegal, most officials looked the other way because part of the ‘small fee’ went to them. Castiel looked up and down the hall to verify they were still alone then whispered, “How small.”


	5. Chapter 5

Maybe it was the heat. Or maybe it was that third beer he had, when his limit for driving home was two. Either way, when Dean left the Roadhouse after having dinner with Sam, he found himself turning right on Pine Street, crossing the tracks and pulling up in front of the home he had lived in when they had first come to town. It was a shitty part of town. Most of the street lights were blown or busted, every other yard was littered with a car jacked up on blocks or a beat up couch on the front porch. Or both. Some of the houses were even abandoned, with boarded up windows and sagging roofs. Just begging to be torn down. This was the state of the home Dean had once shared with his father and little brother.

            Dean had no real attachment to this home, so he felt no sorrow at its dilapidated condition. Hell, if anything it was almost fitting to see it so run down. It hadn’t been in the best of shape when they moved in nearly 14 years ago, and after everything Dean and Sam went through while living there, it’s a wonder Dean didn’t tear the damn thing down himself using nothing more than a hammer and his bare hands. But something about seeing where he started at, where he raised Sam at, where his life had changed forever grounded him and made him feel accomplished in ways he never thought he would. Sure, he was no Sam, big shot lawyer fighting for the rights of people who had been wronged for no reason. And no, he hadn’t found his soul mate like Sam had found in Jess. But Dean was still happy. Well, happy was a strong word, more like content.

            He had a home, in a much better part of town and in much better shape than anything he had ever lived in while growing up. He had an education, a GED and a vocational education in mechanics and small jet engines, but it earned him a better than average paying job with benefits. All and all, Dean was doing better than he ever thought he would and he was damn sure doing better than his old man ever did, so he counted that as a win.

            And so what if he was alone. He had plenty of good friends and a few “non-related” family that he could always count on, not to mention Sam and Jess. So, who needs a significant other? And really, who the hell ever really meets their soul mate. Dean snorted to himself, _hell, I’d have better odds playing the lottery than finding my soul mate._ He took a deep breath and looked back up at the house. Still, he was reminded of all the late nights at Maxine’s diner, before he was old enough to work at the Roadhouse, followed by the early morning shifts at Bobby’s garage. Just to keep Sammy feed, and clothed, and out of the hands of the state after John had died.

            Dean had always provided for and cared for Sammy way more than their dad ever had. So doing all of that: quitting school, working sixty plus hours a week, saving every penny he could in hopes that Sam would one day get to go to college, was all just second nature for Dean by that point. And so what if he was also driven by the guilt of knowing that he had caused the death of their father. If Dean had been the person, the man, the son that John had expected him to be then he would still be alive today. And maybe that was why Dean had never found real happiness, just contentment at best, because he didn’t deserve to be happy. John had killed Mary, Dean’s mother, for intents and purposes and never again found peace or happiness, so why should he be any different. John’s death could be laid squarely at Dean’s feet, so he was thankful that he had at least been able to find some peace in his life, happiness would be asking for too much.

***

            Castiel stopped as he went to shut the door of his and Balthazar’s flat for the last time. He had spent the last few weeks selling nearly everything he owned to gather enough money to buy a passport and work visa and head to America. He hadn’t bothered turning in a notice to the university and since he collected his fees for private sessions as they were given, he hadn’t said a word to any of his clients about him starting a new life. There were a few of the children he would miss, and the quiet time he spent in the music hall of the university had always been meditative and therapeutic so a small pain for the familiarity of it had begun to settle just under his rib cage.

            A quick sweep of the now empty apartment made him ache in ways he didn’t know he had left. His cello that usually occupied a corner of the living area was now gone. Sold dirt cheap to a music store down town. Castiel had cried that night, not just because he felt as though he had just sold his right arm but because that was the moment it became real. He was leaving the only world he had ever known and he was doing it alone. Everywhere his eyes landed now he saw Balthazar. Heard him laugh. Watched him shrug off a smarmy comment with a smirk and twinkle in his eye. And as he closed the door behind him, he swore he heard Balthazar say “Don’t worry so much Cassie, everything will be as it should. Promise.”

            Castiel made his way to the train station with one wheeled suitcase and a duffle over his shoulder. His coyote had told him to travel light. He boarded the Trans-Siberian railway headed to Moscow anticipating a near four day journey. Then, from Moscow to London, he would be shuffled between bus lines and shipping trucks and vans picking up others like himself along the way. Others who were looking to make a better life for themselves and their families. Once in London, he and the others would board a plane headed to Austin Texas. He had been told to expect a much warmer climate and lots of sunshine, so he packed only his lightweight clothes and had sold or donated the rest. Total the voyage was to take approximately fourteen days. He was scheduled to arrive in America on a Thursday, September 18th, which sounded like the perfect day to start his new life.

            The train ride had been fairly pleasant, but the travel by roadway for over 1800 miles was anything but. He left the train station on a bus and rode that for about 200 miles before getting let off at a small village where he was greeted by a man driving a cargo van. Inside there was already a family of five and a younger girl who was traveling alone. This leg ate up most of the miles between Moscow and London with near constant driving over several days. One more stop, some 300 miles before they would be able to board the plane, and they were escorted into the back of a larger carrier truck already holding two young couples, a single man possibly in his early forties, and two younger boys who could in no way be over the age of sixteen.

            No one had spoken really, everyone had been lost in thought of what they were leaving and anticipation of what they could have when they finally made it to America, the land of opportunity. Castiel couldn’t help but watch over the young girl traveling alone, she had reminded him so much of his younger sister Anna. He hoped that this was a journey Anna had found herself on when Castiel lost touch with her. He had not seen or heard from her in close to four years, and this is what he liked to imagine happened to her, certainly not the alternative that danced through his nightmares. Visions of her laying in a dirty alley, cold and alone. Or worse yet, dead and unclaimed. So he would try and reassure himself that she left, found her way to America and, in his wildest dreams, she would have found their older brother Gabriel who had left them before their mother had died. He had promised to send money back, to write and call when he could. He promised he would send for them all once he got settled and had enough money. Gabriel had always been good at making promises, it was the keeping them where he would always fall short.

            As the small group made their way through the London airport and to their gate of departure, Castiel couldn’t help but feel somewhat apprehensive. The instructions they were given concerning the last of their voyage had been vague at best. They had been assured over and over that the visas and passports they had been sold would pass as legitimate and getting through customs would requiring answering a few questions and nothing more. The part that gave Castiel reason to be nervous was the possibility that someone may pull them out of the customs line and take them into a room. If this happened, there was still no need to be worried. The man who had set all this up, the travel, the visas, and the passports claimed to have a man who worked for him inside the Austin Texas airport. They were all assured that Crowley had been doing this for years and no one had ever questioned the authenticity of the documents he issued his customers.

            Castiel boarded the plane and stowed his duffle bag. He had made sure to stuff it full of one change of clothes, all his necessary paper work, the few family photos he had left along with a few of him and Balthazar, and the remaining money he had that was not in his wallet. He remembered reading somewhere to never keep all your money in one place when traveling in case a piece of luggage was lost or you were robbed. With the realization that this would all be over soon, he buckled his seatbelt, reclined his seat and closed his eyes with hopes of waking up in a new land and ready to start a new life.

***

            Summer was beginning to lose its hot, sweaty, stifling grip on Bastrop Texas. Sure, it was only the first part of September, and yes, Dean knew there would be a last ditch effort from Mother Nature to turn him into a puddle of sweat and grease out on the tarmac at least one more time. But today was not that day. Today was beautiful, gorgeous even. The air was clear and crisp. The sun was shining, but with nearly no humidity, the 70 degree temp almost felt cool against his skin. And it was Thursday, one day closer to Friday, so that made today even better.

            As Dean stepped out the door and headed for the Impala he couldn’t help but feel like today was going to be different. Eventful. Awesome. He shook his head, and with a small chuckle to himself thought, jeez _, now I sound like Miss Missouri._ Still, he drove to work with the windows down, the music up and a smile on his face. Dean wasn’t sure why he was smiling like a dork, but it was nice.

            Even as walked through the gate and headed for the mechanics shop, Dean felt lighter than he had in months and anxious, but in a good way. Like the way he always feels just before going on a date with a girl he’d been chasing after and finally caught. Or when he knew the plans for everyone to get together for beer and pool at the Roadhouse was finally panning out. But the odd thing was, none of that was true today. Dean didn’t have a date, or plans to meet anyone after work today to do anything. It was just a normal Thursday, like any other. So, he headed over to pick up a few work orders, threw a wave at the security camera he knew Charlie was manning, and headed over to the garage holding his work for the day.

***

            The plane had come to a complete stop and the seat belt light went dark, as the pilot came over the intercom thanking everyone for flying and bidding them a good day. Castiel grabbed his duffle bag and headed for the customs area where everyone else that was not an American citizen had been directed to go. As he was standing in line, going over the questions in his head he expected to be asked, he began to gaze out the large windows surrounding him and trying to calm his nerves. Castiel could already see how much sunnier it was here. Not a cloud in the sky and the sun just seemed to make everything seem so much brighter and cheerful. The person in front of him stepped forward as the line moved drawing Castiel’s attention back to the people around him. And then Castiel started to really get nervous and slightly suspicious.

            The area he had been directed to was off to the side of the security gates, where there were four different counters, each occupied by an airport security employee and separated only by a half wall between each station. Behind this row of seated guards, two others that paced back and forth, keeping an extra eye on all those who approached and sometimes leaning over the seated guards to glance at the papers the traveler had handed over. Out of the corner of Castiel’s eye, he saw the two young men he had traveled with being escorted through a door by another security guard, just as he saw one of the guards who had been pacing lean over and study the papers of the young girl, the one who had reminded him of Anna. The guard then nicely gathered all her papers from the seated one, and took her by the elbow and guided her through the same door the other two men had went through. As Castiel stepped closer with the movement of his line, he began to watch all his travel companions, the ones who had made the same arrangement as himself. Anytime one of those people stepped forward to present passports and answer questions, the seated guard would motion for another guard who pulled them out of line and through the door. There had been others on the plane that were not traveling in the same fashion as Castiel, but were not citizens. Those people, he noticed, were waved through without a second glance, and none of them had been lead to the door.

            Castiel broke out into a cold sweat. He felt dizzy and began to breathe fast and shallow. He leaned forward slightly, putting his hands on his hips and trying to talk himself out of having a full blown panic attack. Now was not the time. Castiel noticed he was gripping his papers so tightly, his knuckles had turned white and the papers becoming wrinkled. He straightened himself back to be completely upright and tried to smooth the documents back to their original state. One of the coyotes had warned them this may happen. That they could be pulled out of line for further questioning, but not to worry. It was just a random security check that all airports performed. But this didn’t seem to be random. Only the people who shared Castiel’s arrangement were being pulled out of line. Every single one of them.

            “Next! Ah, yes sir. May I see your passport and any travel documents that accompany it?” Castiel made one more pass at trying to unwrinkle his papers as he handed them over. The guard looked them over carefully and without saying a word or even looking up, he made a motion for one of the other guards, then handed him Castiel’s passport and work visa.

            “Sir, do you speak English?” asked the second guard. Castiel nodded, and added “Yes, I am here on a work visa. All my paper work should be in order.” The guard just gathered it all up and motioned for Castiel to walk through the small opening between the counter and the half wall. “Would you come with me sir? Grab your bag and follow me please.” Castiel picked up his duffle bag as the guard placed a hand at the small of his back and began to guide him to the same door all the others had went into.

            Once through the door, the guard steered Castiel to the right down a long corridor. As Castiel looked over his shoulder to speak to him, he made note of the seemingly endless amount of rooms and their open doors. Castiel started, “Sir, I do not understand. All my papers and visa should be in order. I am here to work in music.” Castiel began to notice all the doors he was being led past were closed, probably containing his travel mates. Then in the middle of them all he spotted an emergency exit door. Castiel began to count the doors that they passed now.

            “I’m sure everything is fine, sir. It’s just routine to pull people at random for further inspection. Right this way.” The guard had motioned to an open door as they reached the very end of the hall. _Five doors, five doors to the exit._ It’s all Castiel could think of as he entered the small room containing one chair facing a small desk. The guard held out his arm and motioned for him to sit and at the same time slide the duffle bag out of Castiel’s hands and placed it on the table. There was a man already in the room that Castiel hadn’t even noticed until he was directed to, “This is Officer Fitzgerald, he will be asking you a few more questions and then we will have you on your way.” The man nodded to the other as he turned and walked out of the door but not closing it completely.

            “Hello. How are you doing today? I bet not so good now that we got ya back here huh?” the man sort of chuckled and looked at Castiel with bright almost childlike eyes. “Not to worry, I’ll have ya out of here in a jiffy. My name is Officer Fitzgerald, but that can be a mouth full, especially if ya ain’t from around here. So you can call me Garth. You do speak English, right?”

            He had not broken eye contact with Castiel this whole time, but he noticed the man had already unzipped his bag and had begun rooting through it with one hand as the other held it open. “Yes sir. I speak English. And I assure you all my papers are in order. I am here to work in music. I have a degree from the University in my country. I...” Castiel was cut off with a wave of the man’s hand.

            “Ah, I’m sure your paper work is just fine Mr. ?” He looked at him again with such genuine innocence. “Novak. Castiel Novak.”

            With a smile he says, “Mr. Novak, I’m sure everything is in order. I don’t have your papers, those go to my boss, Mr. Raphael Angles. He will bring those in to us when he gets them all looked over. I am just supposed to make sure you don’t have anything illegal in your bag or on your persons, and then maybe ask you a few questions until your papers come back. I think your bag is clean,” he says as he zips it back up and pushes to the end of the desk closest to the door. “Could you stand up Mr. Novak so I can give you a standard pat down?”

            Castiel stands and meets the man somewhat at the end of the table. The room is small and the door is still slightly ajar. Castiel can hear another passenger yelling in Russian. It sounds like one of two young men who were traveling together. Castiel can’t quite make it out, but it sounds like he is asking why he is being taken somewhere else. Just then, Castiel sees him the man being led back down the hall to the other end and through another door. He can tell by the loud hollow sound the door makes as it shuts behind them that it leads to a stairwell or another much larger room. The man currently sliding a hand down the front of his shirt in search of ‘anything illegal’ doesn’t seem to notice the disruption that just took place.

            Castiel has a very bad feeling about this. About all of this. He looks down to his left to see his bag is _right there_ on the edge of the desk. He looks up and takes another peek out the open crack of the door. He notices no other doors are open and the hallway seems to be empty. Castiel also surmises that with one well-placed kick to the chest, this guard, who Castiel outweighs by at least 40 pounds, and maybe a few inches taller in height, would fall back into the wall behind the door. It would buy him just enough time to run five doors down and out the emergency exit. The officer is still rambling on about who knows what and squatting down in front of him running a hand around the bottom of his jeans. As Castiel looks down at him, placing a hand through the strap of his bag and the other poised to sling open the slightly ajar door, the guard makes a motion that he is about to stand up when Castiel kicks him just below the throat with as much power he can muster in such close quarters. He then proceeds to slam the man’s head with the door since he has fell forward gasping for air. The door hits him with such force that it bounces back shut as Castiel sprints down the hall and out of the emergency door. The alarm sounds.

***

            Dean has heard the sirens before. They used to unnerve him when he first started working here. Hell, they still make him jump because they are just so damn loud and it just reverberates off these metal buildings making it even louder down in the mechanics area. But at least he doesn’t get nervous when they sound anymore. Used to when he heard them, he just knew there was a terrorist on the loose or a maybe a crazy person was trying to steal a plane. Now he knows half the time it’s a drill, the other half of the time it’s because a stray dog wandered on to the tarmac, or a flock of geese flew into the windshield of a plane or got sucked into one of the engines just before takeoff. One time, it was over a plane that had made an emergency landing due to some crazy guy claiming the crew and half the passengers were possessed and kept yelling “Christo” at everyone that got close to him.

            Dean knew better than try and leave the building he was currently standing in. Getting in the way of all those guards hopped up on adrenaline while packing tasers, pepper spray, and even loaded guns was a sure fire way to get hurt and have it blamed on mistaken identity. Even with his work uniform and badge hanging from his neck, things can get confusing and fly off the rails in a heartbeat. So Dean just laid down the wrench he was holding and leaned up against the luggage carrier he had been working on so he could wait for the drill or ‘situation’ to be over.

***

            As soon as Castiel burst through door, he was nearly blinded by the sun and made deaf by the immediate sirens. He made a quick glance to the right and saw nothing but endless concrete, to the left he saw several buildings and looked to be a field on the other side of a very tall fence. He turned to the left and ran, hoping he could find a place to hide inside one of the buildings long enough to catch his breath and find a way into the field. With each building he ran past, the doors were shut and he could only stop long enough to give them each a quick tug, fearing they would catch up to him any second. Ahead, two buildings down, he could see a door propped open. Castiel dug in and ran for that open door with everything he had, saying a small prayer to whoever would listen that the building was empty and there was a place to hide.

***

            Dean started to get the feeling this was no drill. He thinks he can hear people yelling outside, behind the building he is currently in and has this weird feeling that someone is running past all the buildings out front. And headed his way. Just as he straightens himself up and takes a step towards the door, since it was really protocol for all doors to be closed and locked when the sirens went off, his phone began to vibrate against his leg. He fished it out of his jeans pocket that was trapped under his coveralls, expecting it to be anybody but Charlie. Just as he answered it and stuck it to his ear, he looked up to find a man standing in the doorway of his mechanics building. He was flushed and sweating. Clutching a duffle bag to his chest like his life depended on it. His hair was dark, almost black and sticking up every which way. He was just an inch or two shorter than Dean and at least 30 pounds lighter. He took three long strides and was now just a mere foot and a half from being in Dean’s face. Dean could hear Charlie screaming in his ear to stay calm, they were on the way. At the same time he could hear her screaming to someone else that she had a visual on the suspect and began to tell them what building he was in. Then Dean seen blue, and his heart nearly stopped.

            “Please. You have to help me. I cannot go back there. They will kill me or worse. Please.” He shouldn’t have been able to hear the man’s pleas for help over all the racket. The sirens, Charlie on the phone screaming, his work radio going crazy. But he heard him. And he looked into his eyes, and thought _blue._ It was as if the world had stopped and melted down to this one moment in time. He could hear the man panting from the effort of running, he could hear his own heart beat quicken and finally he heard himself say, “Make it go away, Charlie.” Never once breaking eye contact with the man. “Tell them he went the other way. Make it go away, now!’

            “What? Dean what the hell are you talking about? Does he have a gun on you or a bomb? I’m looking right at you, they will be there in ten seconds or less! Stay calm.”

            “You heard me Charlie! “Dean said with as much serious force he could put into it, as he lifted a flap on the compartment of the luggage carrier to his left. “Get in. They won’t think to look in here and I’ll make sure they go the other way.” Dean is talking to the guy with the blue eyes and practically shoving him inside. Dean stops and stares directly into the security camera before he says one more time, “Just trust me Charlie. Make it go away. Send them somewhere else.”

            Dean can hear Charlie stutter out, “Okay.” Followed up by her calling out over the radio that the suspect had turned between buildings E and F and was now headed for one of the larger hangers. Dean turns and heads for the door just as two officers skid to a stop in the doorway of the mechanic shop. They barely have enough time to catch their breath before they hear the new information coming across the radios. “This door is to be closed and locked when the sirens sound.”

            Dean takes a few more long strides, “Yes sir. Doing that now. Do you have any idea what’s going on or is this another drill?” The officer studies Dean and even looks past him into the shop. “Just an illegal gave the guys in customs the slip. Unarmed as far as we know. Keep this door shut and call us if you see anyone that doesn’t belong.” He turns to his partner and they both run in the direction that Charlie says she last seen him on the cameras. Dean shuts the door and hears the automatic lock click. He looks down at the phone in his hand and puts it back up to his ear not remembering if he hung up with Charlie or not.

            “Dean! Dean! You better have a damn good reason for this! Are you sure you’re safe? Do you need help? “

            “I said I’m fine Charlie. Just.” Dean takes a deep breath and turns back to the security camera, “I don’t know. Just trust me. He’s not a _threat,_ he’s scared. How quick can I get him out of here?”

            “Are you fucking kidding me?” Charlie all but screams. “Just sit tight. The sirens will quit in another ten minutes if they can’t find him. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” She hangs up this time and Dean keeps his phone in his hand to wait for her call back. He walks back over the luggage cart that is now holding an ‘unarmed illegal’ and places his body between the camera and the space in which he pulls the flap back to try and talk to this guy. “You okay in there?”

            There is no immediate response, and Dean thinks either the guy ducked out the other side while he wasn’t looking or maybe his English isn’t as good as it sounded when he burst through the door. A set of blue eyes peer at him from the back corner of the compartment, almost glowing against the man’s pale skin as the rest of him seems to get swallowed up in the shadows. He shakes his head at Dean to signify he is okay. “Hey, don’t worry. My friend runs the security cameras around here. She’s going to throw them off your trail and then I’ll see about getting you out of here. So just sit tight.”

            Castiel isn’t sure exactly what this man is saying, but he told him to hide and he got rid of the officers, and now he seems to be offering him a way out of here. Castiel has never been able to look at a person and see if they are good or bad, so he just always assumes everyone is bad and trusts no one. But as he sees the beautiful smile this man flashes at him as he speaks, and how his green eyes seem to sparkle with honesty and compassion, Castiel can’t help but feel safe and reassured that this man will not harm him. This man can be trusted. So he leans back and waits to be found and returned to Russia, or to be saved by the man with the beautiful smile and the credulous eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still completely unbeta-ed, and hopefully readable. Feed back and/or suggestions are very much welcomed.

The sirens come to an end, and Dean is left with an annoying ringing in his ears and a feeling of _what the fuck did I just do_ when he looks back to the luggage compart that is currently hiding a wanted man. Just as he starts to reach full panic mode Dean feels his phone vibrate in his hand. Knowing exactly who it is going to be, he puts the phone up to his ear and tries very hard to hear what Charlie is saying. “Okay Dean, I don’t know what the frack is going on, and I may not want to know, but now is not the time. If you plan on taking this _mission_ to the next level, then you need to move fast. The state boys will be here in less than fifteen minutes to back our security up and lock this place down tight. So what do you need from me?”

            “Umm, well. I don’t know. I gotta get him out of here and out to my car. I didn’t really think this through.”

            “Uh, no you didn’t. But good thing you have me. Now, I can make the cameras do what I want until the state and feds show up, so now you just have to find a way to get him out of the mechanics area, past the parking guard and off the premises without anyone noticing.” Dean’s mind began to race and all he could come up with was every heist movie he had ever seen and how the thieves always hid in plain sight.

            “I got an idea. Just keep the cameras clear of us and if anyone asks, I must’ve eat a bad breakfast burrito and had to leave for the day.” Dean re-pocketed his phone and crossed the garage in order to root around in one of the bottom cabinets. “Ah HA!” As he grabbed the extra pair of coveralls he kept at work in case he spent the night out and didn’t have time to get home to change. He grabbed an old ball cap that one of the guys had left lying around and circled back around to the flap on the luggage carrier. “Here, put these on. We’re going to walk to my car and get you the hell out of here.”

            Castiel quickly slipped his feet into the coveralls, slid out of the compartment he had been crouched in and pulled them the rest of the way over his clothes. Dean handed him the hat, “Here, put this on too. Now stay close, keep your head down and when we get to the guard at the parking lot, go to your left and just keep walking. I’ll make sure he doesn’t notice you. Got it?”

            “Yes, I think so. Thank you.”

            “Well, don’t thank me yet. Not until we’re both out of here.” Dean tried to give the man a look of confidence in the fact that they were going to pull this off, but really he was sweating bullets and now ironically, actually tryingto hold down his breakfast burrito. Just before they exited the building, Dean made a grab for Castiel’s bag and nearly got a right hook to the jaw for his efforts.” Hey, sorry.” Holding his hands up in a show of surrender, “Look, you have to be as unnoticeable as possible. If the guard sees a man how he doesn’t know carrying a bag, warning bells will be going off. But if he sees me, someone he knows carrying a bag, he will think nothing of it and you can just keep on walking like we planned.”

            Castiel dropped his shoulders just a bit and reasoned with himself that this man had a point. He began to hand it over slowly, as Dean made another grab for it, Castiel didn’t completely let go. “Look. I will give it back as soon as we are in the car. Promise. You don’t think I did all this just to steal your bag, do you?”

            “No. No, I do not. But this is all I have,” with a pleading look Castiel meets Dean’s eyes, “you promise to give it back.”

            “Promise.” Dean takes the bag with one hand and puts the other on Castiel’s shoulder, trying to convey to him that everything was going to be okay. With a slight squeeze for added effect, Dean drops his hand back to his side. “Okay, follow me and keep your head down.” Castiel falls in line just to the back of Dean’s left side.

            They pass several buildings, all with the doors still closed and locked due to the security breach, but luckily not a single person. Dean can hear some of the mechanics starting to open up the doors and come out to see what’s going on a few buildings back, on the other side of his shop just as he and Castiel turn the corner of the last building and head for the parking guard shack. He doesn’t think any of them saw him, but it’s too early to tell. He throws his voice in the direction of the guy behind him and loudly whispers, “Just through this gate and to the left. Keep walking down the first row of cars. Mine is about ten spots down on the left. Black Impala.” Dean sees him nod in recognition, he hopes, of what he just said as they break from one another. Dean slows at the guard shack drawing the attention of the man inside.

            “Hey Rufus, what’s with all the sirens?”

            “Hell if I know. Got everybody all worked up. Radios going off every ten seconds, people hollering and barking out orders. Sounds like a real mad house, for once I’m glad to be out here. What are you doing out here?”

            “Well, between all the excitement and a bad gas station burrito for breakfast, I’m not feeling too hot.” Dean grabs his stomach and makes a slightly pained looking face, “Headed home for the day. Stay safe Rufus. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turns and heads for his car quickly scanning the parking lot for signs of the guy he’s helping.

            As he approaches the driver’s side door of his baby, Dean can see the top of a very messy dark haired man crouching on the other side by the passenger’s door. Without changing any of the normal movements required to unlock his door, he speaks across the roof of the car, “I’m going to unlock the door closest to you. Once I do, slide in and stay down.”

            Dean slides behind the steering wheel and then leans over to unlock the other door. Castiel slips into the car and balls himself up as small as possible in the floor board. Dean backs up and drives through the parking lot, maneuvering through the tight lanes so he can exit on the far end closest to the highway, and nowhere near Rufus and his shack. They make it off the lot and begin to merge into the flow of traffic headed east on HWY 71. The first thing Dean does is fire off a text to Charlie.

            Dean: **Im out. We good?**

Charlie: **Yep . lay low. Will call tonite and u will answer!!!**

Dean takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly trying to release some of the stress and tension with it, thinking to himself _they’ve made it this far, now what_. He motions for the man to sit up in the seat as he pushes his bag in his direction. “Here you go.” Castiel grabs his bag like a drowning man would a life preserver and scoots just a little closer to the door.

            Dean looks over out of the corner of his eye. “My friend said we got out without anyone knowing. So that’s good right?”

            Dean is met with a tight nod of the head and a terse smile. The man continues to keep his eyes straight ahead, but Dean in his peripheral. “Ah, okay. Well, do you have a name? I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.” He sends the man another quick glance and tries for a quick smile hoping it will make them both a little less nervous. After a beat or two of silence, “And you are?”

            “Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

            “Well, it’s nice to meet you Castiel Novak.” Dean says the name with as much precision as he can muster but it still comes out mangled and sounding quite foreign. He notices as Castiel quirks the side of his mouth in a tight smile at the butchered attempt of his name. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’m sure that sounded nothing like it was supposed to. Any other name you go by? Maybe one a little easier for me to pronounce and not sound like a fool.”

            Castiel thinks of Balthazar and nearly lets loose the nick name that he had always used, but stops short. It seemed wrong for anyone to use that name besides Balthazar. And his brothers Michael and Gabriel, but it had been years since he had heard that name from either of their mouths. Dean speaks up then causing Castiel to startle out of his private thoughts and back to the present. “So it’s Cass-tee-el” Dean repeats, trying to say each syllable with as little Texas twang as possible. He looks to Castiel for conformation of the slower, more concentrated effort to pronounce his name correctly and adds, “So can I call you Cas? Would that be okay?”

            Castiel smiles back, much bigger and brighter than the last little half smile he had given, “Yes, Dean. Cas would be fine.” At that, Dean begins to drift into the other lane because he cannot seem to take his eyes off this man and his beautiful smile. And his incredibly piercing blue eyes. At the sound of another cars horn, he jerks the steering wheel back and clears his throat adding a tiny “Sorry” and tries to hide the ensuing color rising up the back of his neck and onto his cheeks. Castiel turns his attention back to the road ahead, but visibly relaxes just a bit more than he was before. “So, I know I shouldn’t maybe pry, but I did just kind of help a wanted man getaway and all. Why were you running in the first place?”

            Castiel is clearly flustered and a little caught off guard by this question. Thankfully, a quick glance in Dean’s direction confirms that he is staring straight ahead and did not see his reaction. “Well. Yes, I suppose it would only be fair of me to answer since you did help me escape.” With a deep breath and looking down at his hands as they gripped the only possessions he had left, “My papers were not obtained in a completely legal manor.”

            This brought about a small chuckle, “Man, half of Texas is here without ‘papers not obtained legally’” Dean making the air quotes without really taking his hands off the steering wheel. “But I guess they just walk across the border and not have to fly in and deal with customs and stuff,” he quickly adds when he sees Castiel shift slightly and seems somewhat put off by his reaction.

            “So, where were you headed anyway? You got friends or family waiting for you to walk out of the terminal right about not?” Dean steals another glance and notices Castiel has drawn back up, holding his duffle with a death grip and looks tenser than he was before they ever started talking.

            Castiel lets out a long breath and tries to decide just how much information he should be giving this man. He looks up to find Dean glancing in his direction every few seconds or so with a look of genuine concern and maybe even a little worry in his eyes. “Ah, well. No. I have no friends here, although I do have a brother that left home many years ago to come to the states, I have not heard from him since. So I do not know where he is or if he ever made it here.” Castiel clearly tries to hide the sadness and feeling of loneliness in his voice, but falling very short of his goal.

            “Well. Um, I’m sorry about your brother. Maybe he has just been really busy. You know, trying to get his life started here or something.” Dean is so not good at dishing out comfort and reassurances on a good day with people he’s known for years, so he is really sucking at doing this for a stranger. But with the look of utter defeat on Cas’ face and the sadness in his voice, he had to at least try. He flashes Cas the best ‘it’s all going to be okay, trust me’ smile he has, and Cas returns it with a small tight lipped grin that Dean takes as a ‘I know you’re full of shit, but thanks for trying’.

            “Look. You are more than welcome to crash at my place till you get everything sorted out. I have an extra bedroom that no one ever uses. Honestly, it’s no trouble at all.” Dean spits out the last of it in the face of Cas gently shaking his head back and forth.

            “I cannot ask that of you. You have done so much for me already. Besides, I have no idea how long it will take me to sort out my affairs. The officers were holding all my papers for review when I ran. Forged or not, they were all I had. And now that I am without even that bit of documentation, I fear that there is no way I will be able to find work in order to support myself. And I believe that those papers are needed for me to even board another plane to fly back to Russia, so I..” Castiel trailed off, obliviously letting what he was saying just now sink in to what it meant for him. He was lost. No friends. No family. No home or job. One change of clothes in his bag, along with a few hundred dollars. And even if he could get a ticket to go back to Russia. What then? He had no one there either. His eyes began to sting as they filled up with unshed tears. He placed his hand to his mouth and took in a rather shaky breath.

            Dean sat quietly, trying to watch the road and keep an eye on Cas as he just admitted to being completely alone with no clue where to go from here. He hesitantly reached across the seat and placed a hand on Cas’ shoulder, quickly removing it when he jumped. But it got his attention, and that was the result he wanted. “I mean it. It’s no trouble at all. And I know a few people who pay cash, so finding you a job shouldn’t be a problem. And my little brother, he’s a big time lawyer in Austin, so I bet he could maybe figure out a way for you to get real papers and stay here in America if that’s what you want to do. And hey, even my friend Charlie, who is a computer genius, may be able to track down your brother with just a little bit of info.” With a softer smile, and a sense of pleading in his eyes, Dean waited for an answer.

            Castiel shifted in his seat again, this time to angle himself towards Dean, “Why are you doing all this?” with a hand gesture between the two of them to emphasis what he meant.

            “Just call it southern manners and being raised right. When you see a person in need you help ‘em. That’s just how most of us are around here. At least all the people that I call friends and family.” Dean swallowed back the part about ‘having a moment’ the minute he looked into Cas’ eyes, like this was meant to happen and that Dean’s whole life had seem to be leading up to this one encounter. “So? What do you say? Want to crash with me for a few days, just until, ya’ know, you think of something else or whatever?”

            Castiel drops his shoulders in a small sign of defeat, Dean sounded like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and what other options did he have. “Yes, that would be much appreciated. Thank you. And, if it’s not too much trouble, I would like to speak to your brother, the lawyer, to see if there is anything that can be done at this stage to make my residence more permanent. And of course, I plan on paying my fair share of whatever costs occur due to my stay in your home. As soon as I am able to find work.”

            Dean listened intently to ever word Cas said. With a nod and a smile, “Good. And again, it’s not trouble at all. I can call Sammy when we get to my house and see if he can come meet with you tonight or tomorrow.” Now that that was settled, Dean felt a little bit better. “So, Russia huh?”   

            “Yes, I am from Russia. The north eastern part of the country to be more specific.” Cas waited to see if this would garner any sort of reaction or further inquiry from Dean. What he got was a fairly hearty laugh. “What’s so funny?”

            “Nothing. Just that you being from Russia and all, I missed a once in a lifetime opportunity when I reached in to help you out of that luggage carrier.” Seeing the look of confusion on Castiel’s face, Dean explained. “I should’ve said (in his best Arnold impersonation) ‘Come with me if you want to live.’” He hardly got the whole quote out before laughing for some time at his own comedic-genus abilities. The look of Cas being even more confused just made him laugh harder. As he wiped the water out of the corner of his eye, “Oh, come on. You know, Arnold Schwarzenegger. The Terminator 2?! Nothing?!”

            Cas nodded his head and drew in a breath as to say ‘ah, I see.’ Then with a look of minor indignation, “Yes, Dean. I am well aware of who Arnold Schwarzenegger is, but he is Austrian, not Russian. Besides, just because I can speak English, doesn’t mean I know anything about your culture. What is The Terminator 2?”

            Dean opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again…nothing. He had nothing. “Well then, I know the first thing we’re going to do. I am going to get you educated in everything American, because that,..what I just said,..was hilarious. And if you had ever seen the movie Terminator 2, you would have thought so too. And isn’t Austria and Russia practically the same place?”

            “Yes Dean. Austria and Russia are just as much the same place as Canada and Mexico are the same place. Maybe as you teach me American culture, I can teach you world geography.” With a single raised eyebrow and a smug look he watched as Dean began to fidget. Then Cas let out a chuckle of his own to indicate that he indeed, was not as offended as he sounded. Dean smiles back, and thinks how much better Cas looks when he is at ease.


	7. Chapter 7

The last few miles on the interstate passed in comfortable silence and without incident. Which was beginning to unnerve Dean as much as it would if they had maybe passed a state boy headed toward the airport with his lights on. Something about this whole ordeal felt surreal, off kilter, and not in a bad way. It had just been all too _easy_ and he couldn’t figure out if that was good or if it making things worse. Because in the world of all things Winchester, easy now usually meant hell to pay later.

            Dean eased into the garage and killed the engine. He made his way to the door with Cas following a safe distance behind, “So this is home sweet home” as he dropped his keys on the edge of the kitchen counter and, out of sheer habit, went straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty? I got beer, and water, and the milk is probably a little iffy.”

            “Water would be just fine, thank you.”

            “Now, I don’t have much in the way of food. When it gets hot, I tend to eat a lot of sandwiches and maybe grill out on the weekends. I have peanut butter and jelly, grape and strawberry.” Turning back to the refrigerator to take further inventory, “And there’s still a half a watermelon in here that is probably cold enough to make your teeth hurt, which is the best way to eat ‘em.” Dean turned back to face Cas and get an answer as to which jelly he may want but was met with an entirely new look of confusion.

            “I am not entirely sure what peanut butter and jelly is, but I will eat whatever you would like to make.” With a small tilt of the head Cas continues, “but I am somewhat familiar with watermelon, and I think that if it hurts your teeth to eat it then it may not be ripe.”

            Dean completely stopped in his tracks to stare back at Castiel, waiting for the sincere, honest almost owl-like look to be replaced with a more humorous “gotcha” kind of expression. A moment of silence later and he realized that Cas was in fact, not making a joke this time. With a soft chuckle Dean covered with, “Huh, well okay. Uh, I prefer grape jelly so I’ll make you a sandwich with it, and we can just check out the ripeness of the watermelon later.” He turned back to the counter, slathering a hearty glob of peanut butter on a slice of white bread, followed by a very messy amount of jelly and thinking to himself, _this gives illegal_ alien _a whole new meaning._ “Okay Cas, here’s your sandwich. Right through there is the living room, “Dean made a motion to the left at an extra wide doorway, “and then down the hall is the bathroom and the bedrooms. Mine is the one to the left, you can take the one on the right. I’m going to step outside and see if I can get ahold of my brother,” pulling his phone out his pocket. “Just make yourself at home, and if you need anything just holler. I’ll be right out front here.” Dean passed through the doorway and turned right, headed out the front door via the living room.

            Castiel took a deep breath and looked down at the plate Dean had set on the table in front of him. A piece of sliced bread stared back at him and seemed to ooze grape gel and light brown paste from its edges and began to settle back into its self. Castiel pulled out the chair and dropped his bag at his feet. He studied the offering of food trying to find a way to pick it up and eat it without having the bulk of it escape the bread and end up back on the plate or worse, in his hands. As he gingerly plucked the sandwich from its place, being sure to hold it with his fingertips, he leaned over the plate as he took a small exploratory bite. It was a mouthful to say the least. As he rolled it around in his mouth, the need to continually chew struck him as odd, since the stuff on this sandwich seemed to be far from solid to begin with.

            Dean’s home was nice. Nothing too big or too fancy, but clean and well maintained. Castiel was currently seated at the table in the kitchen looking out a double glass door that lead to a large wooden deck, with an expansive back yard peppered with mature trees of all kinds, and no visible neighboring houses from this angle. To his back were all the cabinets and appliances, a window over the sink that must look out on to the front yard. To his right was the door leading to the garage where they had pulled into when they first arrived. To his left was the wide passage that lead to the living room. Castiel took a long drink from his bottle of water to finally wash down the bite he had taken as he stood and headed into the living room. This room was much wider than the kitchen and appeared to be far more lived in/comfortable than the kitchen.

            The focal point at one time may have been the large bay window in the front, on the same wall as the front door, but now it was obviously the massive flat television that hung on the wall shared with the kitchen. A large sofa that went on forever, even making a turn back toward its self took up most of the room, as a fabric covered table of sorts, matching the sofa sat in the middle and a rather old recliner was placed closest to the window. The wall to the back of the living area was floor to ceiling shelves covered in movies and books.

            Castiel turned to his right and made his way down the hall toward what must be the bedrooms and bath. The door to the left was open and he could see a large unmade bed in the middle of the room with a table and lamp on each side, he was this must be Deans room and took a step back so as not to pry any further. Directly across the hall from Dean’s bedroom was a closed door, which Castiel slowly opened to peer inside. There was a small double bed in the corner up against the wall, beside it a small table with a lamp. A desk and chair, along with a set of chest drawers made the room seem small, but very livable. He pulled the door back closed and took several more steps heading to what must be the bathroom. The door was open and when he turned on the lights, Castiel was kind of impressed.

            In front of him was a large mirror over an expansive vanity and sink. To the left was a small room with a sliding door that housed the toilet. He stepped completely inside the bathroom now to admire the tub, big enough for at least two people, placed against the far right wall of the bathroom. As he stepped closer, he noticed a large walk in shower with a bench carved into the wall on his right, just before reaching the tub. Castiel was sure this bathroom was better than what most five star hotels had to offer. He flipped off the light and made his way back to the eat-in kitchen, to finish his sandwich.

***

            Dean made his way out the front door and began to unzip his coveralls, taking out his arms, he let them hang at his waist being held up by his jeans. He pulled on his t-shirt a few times trying to circulate a little air down his chest, this may have been the first day without a heat advisory but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still hot. And maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe it was the fact that he could lose his job, had committed a felony and asked a complete, albeit gorgeous, stranger to live with him all in the course of a few hours. He passed his phone back in forth in his hands as he wiped each sweaty palm down the front of his coveralls, trying to steel his nerves for the phone call he was about to make.

            “Sam Winchester, attorney at law.” Always so professional, what a nerd. “Dean Winchester, greatest brother ever.” He could hear Sam sigh, “Why do you answer your cell phone like that, especially when you know it’s me.”

            “First off, I never know when it may be a client, and when do you ever call me during the day. On a weekday. When you should be at work. What happened? Are you okay? Bobby? Ellen?”

            “Hey, slow down there. Everyone we know is fine, as far as I know. And I took off a little early today, wasn’t feeling good. Bad breakfast burrito, I think.”

            “Ew, Dean. TMI dude. Sorry to hear you have a tummy ache (best baby voice), but still doesn’t explain why you are calling me. Unless you need me to drop off some medicine. In which case, no problem, but it will be left on the front steps and how it makes its way into the house will be up to you.”

            “Gee, thanks Sammy. Guess I should’ve just handed you a diaper and wipes when you were little and said how that shitty diaper gets changed is up to you.” Dean was trying not to sound so hurt, but give a guy a break. Sam had no idea how many times Dean had wiped his ass, and even had to dodge to keep from getting pissed-on on more than once. Then Dean remember he wasn’t even sick, but he was still kind of put out with his brother’s response.

            “Dean, I’m sorry. Just been a long day. Whatever you need man, and I’ll make it happen.”

            “Well, funny you should say that. Are you still considered my lawyer? Ya know, stand up with me in case I have to go to court, again.” Dean began to pace a little, and worry his bottom lip with his top teeth.

            “What did you do Dean?” Sam said through clenched teeth, then took a deep breath. “Yes, I am still your lawyer. I am still on retainer unless you say otherwise.” A beat a silence, “Fire me Dean. Unless you fire me, then I will forever be your lawyer. Now. Do I need to meet you at a police station? Do I need to bring bail money?” Dean could hear the rustle of papers and knew Sam was waiting for instructions as he gathered up his things before heading out the door to do whatever needed done.

            “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m at home, honest. But that still doesn’t mean I didn’t do something that was kind of stupid.” With an “uh huh” as a response, Dean felt it was safe to go on. “Well, you remember that time we were in Oklahoma, staying at that motel apartment kind of place just outside of Tulsa? Anyway, I was nine, I think, so you must’ve been almost five. So you come flying in from outside, damn near in tears, going on about hearing a cat stuck in the dumpster out back. You barely waited long enough for me to tie my shoes before dragging me out there so I could hear it too. We grabbed some crates and stacked up high enough for me to open the lid and peer in. And sure enough, there was a little black kitten stuck in the back corner of the dumpster. Guess it crawled in looking for food and couldn’t get out. To this day, I think that was the smallest cat I have ever seen.” Dean paused to shake away the smile he always got when he thought back to Sammy actually being his very little brother.

            “Dean, I still haven’t heard anything remotely close to you doing something that would require legal counsel.”

            “I’m getting there, hang on would ya. Like I said, we found the kitten you said had been crying for hours and I managed to climb in and coax it over to me with some bread you had ran in to get out of the cupboard. Once I got him out of there, you had him wrapped up so tight in your jacket it’s a wonder he could even breathe. And instead of him clawing at you or hissing, he just snuggled closer. You begged and begged Dad to let you keep him, but of course he said no. But you made him up a box with a few towels and old t-shirts of yours and saved bites out of every meal you ate to sneak out to him when Dad left for work or passed out. Anytime I got to hunting you, all I had to do was go around back where that damn cat stayed. Find you there playing with him, feeding him or just holding him and talking. And when we left, you wanted to take him with us, thought for sure we could sneak him into your duffle and Dad would never know. But I convinced you to give him to the maid, she had a daughter that helped her clean sometimes. They promised you they would take good care of him and that you could visit him anytime we came back through.”

            “Wow, Dean. Huh. I haven’t thought about that in years. Still don’t see how this story could have anything to do with you needing a lawyer. And Midnight was the greatest cat that ever lived, I’m sure of it.” Dean could hear Sam smiling at the memory.

            “I’m sure he was Sam. Anyway, just, you know. You did whatever you could to save him. Even put your own safety and well-being at risk, cause if Dad had caught you, then you wouldn’t have been able to sit for a week and food was scarce enough as it was without you sharing with some stray kitten. My point is, you seen something in trouble and you made a choice, consequences be damned, to do the right thing. And that’s all I’ve done. Made a snap decision to help someone who needed it, and now I may be a little worried about the consequences. Look, I’d really rather not talk about this over the phone. Do you think you could make it over to the house this evening?”

            “Um, sure. Of course. I can move a few things around and be there no later than four. And, for what it’s worth Dean, everything I did for that kitten I did because I wanted to be just like you. You’re the one that taught me how to take care of others and make sacrifices and to do the right thing no matter what. Wanting to be like you and help others is what led me to law in the first place, and then into my field to make sure no one ever had to go through what you did your senior year.”

            Dean cleared his throat and tried his best to not sound like he had a lump in it the size of his heart, “Well, uh, yeah. Thanks Sammy. That means a lot, so yeah. Anyway, enough of that touchy feely crap, just get down here so we can talk. Maybe we can order pizza, I’ll even get one half of it covered in rabbit approved toppings. It’s the least I can do for dirt cheap legal advice. Right?”

            Sam chuckled, “You’re right, it’s the least you could do. And you’re welcome. See you at four. Stay out of trouble til I get there okay?”

            “No promises Sammy, but I’ll do my best.” Dean closed out his phone and let out a deep cleansing breath. That had gone good, better than he thought it would’ve. Of course, Sam still didn’t really know anything that had happened or just how deep Dean is involved, that was definitely a conversation best had in person. He turned to head back toward the front door and looked up to find Castiel watching him from the kitchen window. Dean couldn’t help but smile and throw his hand up in a small wave. _Jeez, Winchester. The guy hasn’t been here for an hour yet and already you’re acting like some starry eyed preteen._ Then Castiel smiled and waved back. Dean forgot all about being embarrassed or insecure or feeling girly, because if Cas kept smiling at him like that he was just going to have to get used to feeling all those things and more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go, have some plot. I hope it makes as much sense on "paper" as it did in my head. Thanks again to all who are reading and commenting and/or leaving kudos. " If you see something (like a mistake of any kind), say something" Now that I have laid the foundation of the plot, I can get back to writing the fun stuff for a bit. Building friendships, more back stories, angst, and whatnot.

The security officers began filing out of the meeting room and headed to their assigned posts for the day. The ones working the customs counter, their back up officers and those who had been assigned to a room used to conduct private interviews and searches were armed with an extra piece of equipment. Raphael Angels, head of airport security, had received another anonymous tip concerning passengers that would be trying to enter the United States with falsified documents.

            Victor Henriksen headed for his post as a backup officer for the customs counter. Once there, he logged on to one of the computers and started to cross reference the names on the list to passport pictures in order to better acquaint himself with the persons of interest. As he skimmed the list he noticed there were a few younger men, apparently traveling alone, that would need to be handled as possible runners. He smiled to himself and tucked the list into his breast pocket. Today just might be the day that things _finally_ got interesting.

            As the passengers made their way over to customs, each officer began to pull out those from the list and pass them off to the assisting officers to be escorted to an empty room in the back. Victor did his best to be the one that escorted all three of the possible runners and place them in the rooms being overseen by some of his more capable fellow officers. As he escorted the last single male who appeared to be about mid 20’s, spoke fairly good English, and obviously very nervous, maybe even a little suspicious, Victor couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the guy who was working in the room he was headed for. Garth Fitzgerald was the newest member of the security team, and usually that meant the officer would be a little more gung ho, but Victor got the impression that Garth didn’t have an authoritative or imposing bone is his scrawny little 5’9” frame, which made him question Raphael’s decision to hire the man all that much more.

            As Victor entered the room, he directed the young man to have a seat in the chair behind the small table, as Garth slipped the bag from his hands. Victor gave Garth a small nod and left the door slightly cracked as he exited the room. As he headed toward Raphael’s office, he could hear Garth begin the customary introduction with his personal added pleasantries.

            Victor entered the office to find his superior on the phone, apparently involved in a heated discussion that halted as soon as his presence was noticed. Raphael had only enough regard for Victor’s company to motion for him to lay the papers belonging to the passenger he just escorted to be placed in a pile with all the others. Then Raphael waved him back out the door with an extra gesture for it to be closed behind him. Yeah, Victor really hoped today was the day that everything broke apart so this asshole would finally get what was coming to him.

            As he made his way down the corridor and back out to the customs counter, he could hear a door being opened behind him. Another officer by the name of Virgil was now forcefully escorting one of the young male passengers into the stairwell that led to an underground garage. There were only a handful of passengers left in the private rooms unknowingly awaiting the same fate as this guy, and only one more that was of any real concern. Victor passed through the door leading back onto the customs floor, and with a slide of hand locked the door behind him to hinder, even by mere seconds, the response of the other officers if there was a problem.

He had been sure to waver for a few extra seconds as they passed by the emergency exit door, left the door ajar to the room he had led him to and even took note of the fact that the table in the room was much too large for the area, impeding swift movements by anyone standing behind the table. Now all he could do is wait. Wait to see if this would be the day. If this would be their guy. If this guy would be the one to knock over the first metaphorical domino he and his partner had spent months setting up.

The sirens began to wail and as everyone stilled for that half of second before they jumped into action, Victor smiled. Yeah, today was the day.

***

Charlie’s day had started like any other. She made her way into the video control room, that she liked to call The Bridge, and began to put away her belongings. It had been a beautiful drive to work today. The heat had finally broke, so when she had stopped for her triple-venti-half-sweet-non-fat-caramel-macchiato, made by her favorite (and very sexy) barista Dorothy, Charlie didn’t already have a bead of sweat forming across her forehead and her hair didn’t look like a fluffed out clown wig. So she had chatted up the coffee goddess, and got a smile and a small giggle for her efforts.

Charlie stepped back out of The Bridge, and as she passed by one of the stewardesses looking a little frazzled and obviously running late, she handed off her cup of dressed up, overpriced caffeine and told her to enjoy. Charlie never drank that rot-your-teeth pseudo coffee, she only ever stopped there to ogle Dorothy and that was the most complex drink she could think of to order, buying her just a few more minutes of face time than a plain coffee ever would. Now with her plain breakroom coffee, one cream no sugar, she headed back to her little room with a spring in her step and daydreams of a certain someone making coffee; on a Saturday morning, at her place, while wearing only panties and one of her favorite t-shirts, running on a loop inside her head. Charlie was abruptly pulled from her happy place by the blaring sounds of the security sirens.

Charlie threw herself into her chair, grabbed her hand held radio to start giving out locations of the problem at hand. She looked up at one of the screens just in time to see the emergency exit door that lead to the outside just off the customs private room’s hallway. Two screens over and she had a visual of a man with messy dark hair, clutching a bag running in between the many storage buildings. He paused for only a second to try and open a door, but it was had automatically shut and locked its self when the alarm sounded. Realizing pretty quick that this was a dead end, the dark haired man picked back up the pace and was now headed straight for the mechanics buildings. Charlie glanced over several screens before landing on the one currently showing the interior of building 63, a mechanics building. She could make out the back of a person who she knew right away to be Dean, but more importantly, at the top of the screen, she could barely see the bottom of the door way leading to the outside of the building. And coming through that door way was sunlight. Dean had propped the door open. Dean had propped the door OPEN!!

Charlie grabbed her phone that she had tossed down when the sirens started and hit Dean’s number in her speed dial, at the same time she pulls out her work radio giving the officers an approximate location of the runner and which way he seemed to be headed. “I have a visual on a male, dark hair, medium build, clutching a bag of some kind. He’s running toward the mechanics buildings” Dean finally answers his phone as Charlie is watching his every move through the security camera. All of a sudden, at the top of the screen, Charlie sees a shadow and a pair of feet standing in the door to Dean’s building. “DEAN! DEAN! Listen to me! They are on their way! Don’t do anything stupid! DEAN!! Can you hear me?!?!” The man approached Dean and there was now barely a foot separating the two men. Charlie smashed the button on her radio, “I have him in building 63. Mechanics building.” She went to add more, but finally heard Dean reply to her over the phone.

“Make it go away, Charlie.”

“What?!? What the hell are you” Dean interrupts with, “Tell them he went the other way. Make it go away, now!”

“What? Dean what the hell are you talking about? Does he have a gun on you or a bomb? I’m looking right at you, they will be there in ten seconds or less! Stay calm.”

She can see Dean lifting a flap to one of the luggage carriers and motioning for the guy to get inside. “You heard me Charlie!” As the guy ducks inside, Dean turns towards the camera so Charlie can look directly at his face and see the seriousness in his eyes. “Just trust me Charlie. Make it go away. Send them somewhere else.”

Charlie lets out a shaky “Okay” and smashes the button on her radio again. “I lost him. He must have turned and ran between buildings. Last one I have him passing on-screen is building 58, the last building of the storage area.” As she is calling out this new information, her eyes do not leave the screen currently showing the happenings in building 63. She sees Dean walk towards the door. She can make out two pair of military style boots belonging to a couple of security officers. Dean still has her on the line, but he is holding the phone down at his side so she can’t make out exactly what is being said. She hears over the radio that the officers have changed directions, due to her instructions, and are now headed in the wrong direction.

The door to the building shuts, and she watches as Dean turns around and heads back toward the luggage carrier and back into full view of the camera. She still has the phone to her ear, so as he raises his back up she immediately starts in, “Dean! Dean! You better have a damn good reason for this! Are you sure you’re safe? Do you need help?”

“I said I’m fine Charlie. Just.” Dean tears his eyes away from staring at the flap of the luggage carrier that is now housing a fugitive and looks directly back into the camera. “I don’t know. Just trust me. He’s not a threat, he’s scared. How quick can I get him out of here?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Charlie all but screams. “Just sit tight. The sirens will quit in another ten minutes if they can’t find him. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” She hangs up now and gives out a few more vague coordinates of where the cameras last picked up the man running loose. She looks to the control panel and hits rewind on the feeds for the last two cameras in which he made an appearance. She records over the feeds with a blank loop and then shuts them both down to show nothing but static. She can buy herself some time by claiming those cameras weren’t working at all, which with this out dated set up happens all the time.

The door swings open and Raphael looks severely pissed, “Do you or don’t you have a visual on this guy”

“Sorry sir, but a few of the cameras appear to have went down again. I lost him just as he passed the end of the storage buildings. It looked as though he turned and ran between building 58 and 59.” Charlie had never been good at lying, but she kept up eye contact and tried not to fidget under Raphael scrutiny.

“So, you have nothing.”

“Just a blurry back of the head shot as he ran out the emergency door, but that’s it, sorry.” Then, for just a split second, something completely out of character happened. Raphael appeared to be relieved. She had braced herself for him to rain hellfire and brimstone down upon her but he just took a deep breath and then it was over. He was right back to his high and mighty asshole-self.

“Well fuck. The state police are on their way as back up. Keep looking and make sure you have it all recorded. They will want to take a look at the tapes when they get here.’

“Yes sir.” Huh. Maybe Charlie had imagined that look of relief in Raphael’s eyes. The sirens come to an end and she figured there was only a small window of opportunity to try and keep Dean from going to prison for a very long time. She hoped he had a plan. Watching him through the security camera, he puts the phone up to his ear and she doesn’t even give him the chance to say ‘hello’. “Okay Dean, I don’t know what the frack is going on, and I may not want to know, but now is not the time. If you plan on taking this _mission_ to the next level, then you need to move fast. The state boys will be here in less than fifteen minutes to back our security up and lock this place down tight. So what do you need from me?”

“Umm, well. I don’t know. I gotta get him out of here and out to my car. I didn’t really think this through.”

“Uh, no you didn’t. But good thing you have me. Now, I can make the cameras do what I want until the state and feds show up, so now you just have to find a way to get him out of the mechanics area, past the parking guard and off the premises without anyone noticing.” Dean was rubbing the back of his neck as he paced back and forth. Then it was like watching a cartoon light bulb going off above his head.

“I got an idea. Just keep the cameras clear of us and if anyone asks, I must’ve eat a bad breakfast burrito and had to leave for the day.” Dean hung up and she watched as he began to rummage around in the shop cabinets. Charlie really hoped he had one helluva good idea. She rewound the footage captured from the camera covering Dean’s shop and put it back on the generic loop. The less she knew about what Dean had in mind the better.

Seven minutes. She had not heard anything out of Dean, Raphael, or anyone else for seven minutes. Then the radio came to life with the voice of one of guards. “This is Virgil, I have him custody and headed to the holding room.” Charlie held her breathe and began to whisper a quick prayer, _please let Dean get away, please don’t let Dean get caught, and please oh please don’t let me get caught! I know I may act all tough but I would not do well in prison. I’m a good person, I don’t deserve to go to prison over something I barely had anything to do…_ she was pulled out of her endless pleas for amnesty by the buzz of her phone. She looked down to see that it was from Dean.

            Dean: **Im out. We good?**

Well thank whoever was listening, Dean had made it out. She was just about to text back sorry your guy didn’t, when Virgil turned the corner pulling a roughed up looking guy in cuffs behind him. The man was a few inches shorter than Virgil, making him around 5’8”, his hair was dark but with obvious greys mixed in, and definitely more on the husky side than the man she had seen Dean talking to camera. Charlie stepped out into the hall to see if she could hear any info concerning Dean and what she guessed to be a second runner.

Virgil stopped in front of Raphael, “How’s Garth? Think he can ID this guy?” Virgil sounded more nervous than concerned.

“Garth will be fine, but he took a good hit to the head. The EMT’s are with him now. I already prodded some. He says he doesn’t even remember the guy being brought into his room.”

“And the cameras? Any footage?”

“No. I have already touched base with the IT girl, she says the cameras were down.” Raphael looked at the man in cuffs. “He will do. I told you Virgil, not to worry. I have it all under control. Now, the state boys will be here any minute, but I have radioed ahead and called off the Feds since we have our guy in custody. Just give them the story I told you to and everything will be fine.” Virgil seemed to be hanging around for either more instructions or maybe to ask a few more questions.

“And what about my pay? Will it be affected by this situation?” That’s odd, Charlie thought to herself, why would this affect his paycheck. It’s not they worked on commission.

“No Virgil. I assure you this will affect your pay in no way. As I said, I will handle it from here. You just play your part and hand this man over.” The stern dismissive way in which Raphael had said that last part left no room for misinterpretation. Virgil was being dismissed. Charlie slid back into her room and fired off a quick text to Dean.

            Charlie: **Yep . lay low. Will call tonite and u will answer!!!**


End file.
